


Covert Courtship

by Moirai



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Courtship, Eventual Sterek, M/M, Mate Competition, Tricked Courtship, Werewolf Mates, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 99,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moirai/pseuds/Moirai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the Alpha Pack now in town, Stiles is perpetually in the way of danger. Due to a misunderstanding of werewolf rituals, customs and politics, along with a misguided attempt to keep his enemies close, Stiles unknowingly enters into a courtship process with one of the Alpha twins. What are his motives behind such a courtship? However, Derek has a plan to break the courtship and to win Stiles back, causing an unintentional competition between the Alpha Twin and Derek. (Eventual Sterek)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Accidental Dating

**Author's Note:**

> This has been an idea I've been working on for quite a while, and I've finally got a good opening chapter together for everyone to read.
> 
> It is going to be a multi-chapter fic and will be a decent length by the time I'm done with it. Luckily I'm on summer vacation so I have a lot of free time to update chapters of the multiple stories I'm working on. This will probably have top priority as I'm rather proud of it the moment. 
> 
> I'd also like to thank HeartoftheMirror for betaing this for me and fixing my many grammar mistakes along the way.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Leave me your kudos and comments and tell me what you want to see. I'll probably only have one chapter or so written in advance so I've got a lot of room for added scenes. I've got a rough outline as to where I want this to go but things always change by the time I reach the last chapter. 
> 
> I didn't have much of an idea of Ethan's character besides the fact that he strips a lot and causes trouble for Isaac, so I figured I'd play around with it a little and see how I could develop him as one of the major characters in this story. 
> 
>  
> 
> This first chapter focuses on Stiles and Ethan while the next chapters will introduce Derek and some eventual Sterek. I'm putting some Isaac/Scott friendship in the background and some of the other characters will appear throughout the story for brief appearance. Lots of plot twists and character development to come.

Call him a modern teenager oblivious to social variances outside of the norms established in his rural high school but Stiles cannot believe anyone refers to dating as a “courtship process” anymore. Such phrases call to mind well-tailored gentlemen, groomed since birth to exist in aristocratic societies rather than two teenagers in jeans and t-shirts sharing a lunch.

     When Ethan, one of the Alpha twins, notices his lack of lunch (courtesy of his rushed morning thanks to an undeserved electronic punishment in the form of his malfunctioning alarm clock), he slides over.

“Hey, why don’t you let me buy you something to eat,” Ethan says, starting a whole downward spiral of events.

Call him a cynic but Stiles thinks that the twin is up to nothing good. For all intents and purposes, Stiles is currently an honorary member of Scott’s mostly-human pack. With the Alphas hell- bent on recruiting Derek and eliminating Scott, one hyperactive human will be little more than collateral damage. Perhaps they are sending Ethan to poison him, disguised as a peace offering. Seeing as Stiles spends his weekends quite literally running with werewolves, a little paranoia is a healthy thing.

     At the time, Stiles is sulking in the cafeteria without a lunch and without a viable excuse to cut out early. Scott is waltzing around somewhere with Isaac and Stiles has a deep seeded feeling that his status as Scott’s best friend is crumbling lightly at the foundations.  It’s not that Stiles is jealous of the angsty teenage werewolf, it’s simply that Stiles feels threatened that Scott and Isaac can bond over werewolf activities while he and Scott cannot for obvious, species-related, reasons.

     The whole miserable day might have been fixed if he had remembered the brown paper bag in his fridge, stuffed with last night’s cold pizza and various other junk food that could have taken his mind off of this horrible gray Tuesday morning. Forgetting his homework, forgetting his medication, running a flat tire right as he pulled into the school parking lot and getting criticized in history for proposing a conspiracy theory in the Articles of Confederation are only one part of his problems that day. Consider the baseline stress from the Alpha pack threatening the lives of his friends and it’s easy to see how something as small as forgetting his lunch is putting him on edge.

     While Stiles is considering this with his mouth gaping open, Ethan, the openly into-men Alpha, is still waiting for an answer. On the one hand, Ethan is extending aid to him in his time of lunch-need. On the other, said Alpha twin is also trying to hunt down his best friend and convert Derek to their homicidal ways.

     “While lunch would make me feel better in ways I can’t even describe, a poisoned lunch would only pile things onto my currently drowning amount of problems. So thank you, but I can’t accept. I’m not even that hungry,” Stiles squints at the Alpha with a bit of skepticism and maybe a small amount of fear, before he turns around and stares back down at his empty lunch table. His stomach decides to betray him and growl and churn audibly.

     “Your stomach says otherwise. C’mon, it won’t be poisoned. You can even watch them make it,” Ethan offers and Stiles shakes his head vehemently, cursing Scott for not being with him that period and saving him from this whole situation. Surely Scott would have spared him a few bucks for lunch and he wouldn’t be faced with the problem of an unnaturally overly-friendly Alpha twin.

     “As much as I would _love_ to accept that offer you are trying to kill my friends. Also, given the chance I’m not entirely sure that you wouldn’t try to kill me,” Stiles crosses his arms and shoves his head into the table to avoid the conversation.

     “That is none of my doing. That is Deucalion’s call and he only wants to recruit Derek, not violently slaughter you or your friends,” Ethan corrects and takes a seat in the empty chair next to Stiles. Stiles lifts his head up and groans at the movement.

     “No, you want to get my friends to slaughter my other friends, lovely,” Stiles throws his arms up in defeat while trying not to make a scene in the cafeteria. “I know what you’re doing and you’re being manipulative.”

     “Hey, I’m a teenager just like you. I’m just looking to socialize. You’re not a werewolf which means that when shit goes down, there is no need for you to be involved in any of it,” Ethan reasons.

     “I am _not_ going to listen to your villain rant that aims to convert me to your side and sympathize with you as you humanize yourself. It didn’t work with William Dafoe’s Green Goblin and it will not work with you,” Stiles is staring anxiously at the lunch line and massaging his stomach.

     “So you are saying no to me buying you lunch?” Ethan asks, assessing the situation.

     “No, because this will probably be some type of werewolf ethical agreement where I owe you one in the future, and you’ll call upon it as you are attacking Scott,” Stiles says, sad to be rejecting food. “Also, where are your brother and Danny?” Stiles looks around the room, suddenly noticing a strange absence of the lacrosse goal-keeper and identical Alpha trouble-causing twin.

     “My brother is off studying in the library, hauling it overtime to study for a test and I don’t actually keep tabs on Danny,” Ethan comments and drums his fingers against the table. “And this isn’t me wanting you to owe a debt. This is me giving you a few bucks for food because I’m equally as hungry and currently without a table to sit at.

     Stiles narrows his eyes and even though every fiber of his being is telling him to not accept the invitation, he looks at the Alpha twin in calm consideration. “I won’t talk about Scott or anything werewolf related,” He offers again and Ethan just smiles.

     “Never asked you too. I would prefer other topics anyway,” Ethan stands and Stiles follows after, heading with him as they move to stand in the lunch line.

     Stiles’ mouth is watering as he piles his tray with chicken strips, fries and milk along with slices of kiwi and a brownie. Ethan smiles as he hands the cashier multiple bills and notifies the lady that he is paying for Stiles’ lunch as well.

     In blissful silence, they head back to the table and start munching away.

     “So what triggered this random act of kindness?” Stiles asks curiously as he bites at one of the chicken strips.

     Ethan shrugs. “Boredom, you looked sad and partially because it will piss Aidan off ever so much.”

     “Great,” Stiles groans. “I get to deal with a pissed off identical version of you.”

     “He won’t do anything to you,” Ethan reassures. “He wouldn’t dare,” He finishes with a toothy smile.

     “You two are able to morph into a single being and yet you fight with each other? That’s a scary concept,” Stiles snorts.

     “I thought we weren’t talking werewolves?” Ethan laughs, half of his mouth curling up in amusement.

     “I thought you were dating Danny,” Stiles puts that out there, knowing it was not exactly a werewolf-related topic.

     “I’m not dating Danny. It’s difficult with… well, it’s difficult because I’m a,” and here Ethan leaves in and mouths _werewolf_ before leaning back up, “and he doesn’t know that. Not to mention, he went and accidently hit on my brother the other day and has been ignoring me ever since.”

     “Ouch,” Stiles winces. “So, as much as we agreed to not talk werewolf-related topics, are you the ones slaughtering virgins?” Stiles knows this is a blunt remark to make but he can’t help not knowing what happened to Heather.

     “Wow, you are right to the point. You’ve got balls. I like that. But, yeah… no. That’s not us. Deucalion is trying to figure out who is infringing on this territory but he’s coming up with nothing at the moment,” Ethan pushes his potatoes around his plate with his fork, refusing to meet Stiles’ gaze. “I’m sorry about what’s-her-face,” He smiles sadly.

     “Heather. Her name was Heather,” Stiles frowns.

     “I am sorry about Heather,” Ethan offers and Stiles just nods, seeming to accept the sincerity and truth in his statement. His suspicion from the beginning anyway, was that the Alpha pack had nothing to do with Druidic deaths.

     “Did you kill your pack as initiation to join the Alpha Pack?” Stiles asks, testing his theory that he’s been reading up on as to how an Alpha pack could possibly exist.

     Ethan swallows one of his fries and leans back in his chair, wiping his hands on a stray napkin. “I didn’t no. I share Alpha status with Aidan. We are essentially one being. If he’s Alpha, so am I.”

     “So Aidan slaughtered his pack?” Stiles nods and suddenly feels too disgusted to finish his food. He stare warily at his plate.

     “If you knew Griffin or Alex, you wouldn’t find this idea as barbaric and unsympathetic as you probably do right now,” Ethan offers and Stiles shakes his head.

     “He killed two people. He killed two of his own people, his own pack. I know in the werewolf world, that is barbaric and ruthless,” Stiles counters and Ethan shakes his head before toying with the slab of meat in front of him.

     Ethan closes his eyes and squints them tight.

     “He didn’t do it for the power or for the chance to join an Alpha pack. He did it to protect other people. They were not nice werewolves,” Ethan defends.

     “Then he shouldn’t have turned them in first place,” Stiles hisses, knowing personally how a lot of problems would be resolved for Alphas if they never turned a certain person.

     “They weren’t his. They were Omegas, free-roaming, that he took in,” Ethan pleads and Stiles takes a bite of his chicken to partially avoid the conversation.

     “I just couldn’t kill someone like that,” Stiles offers and Ethan nods.

     “Nor would I want you to be able to. I am just telling you that my brother and I aren’t as ruthless and the rest of the Alphas in our pack. But they are our pack and we won’t betray them,” Ethan offers before stabbing his potatoes violently.

     “I can understand that,” Stiles concedes with a nod.

     “That’s why I didn’t want to talk werewolf politics. It ruins a good meal,” Ethan laughs as he finishes his plate. “Finish yours or you’ll be moody the rest of the day,” He tips his head toward Stile’s still half-full plate.

     “Hey, I’m not moody,” Stiles pouts and demolishes half of his remaining fries with two bites.

     “Everyone is moody when they don’t eat,” Ethan counters and Stiles rolls his eyes, rushing to finish off the rest of his lunch.

     The bell sounds right as he takes the last bite. He grabs his backpack from the ground and fumbles with his tray before Ethan snatches it out in front of him.

     “Go, rush to English. Teach’ll kill you if you’re late again and I’ve already earned a reputation,” He gestures for Stiles to move and Stiles just nods.

     “Uh, thank you. For the meal and the conversation,” Stiles rubs the back of his head before gesturing towards the door and running off.

     “Thank you for accepting the meal,” Ethan remarks, his face suddenly transforming into a full-blown grin.

     It isn’t until later in the period that Stiles starts noticing odd changes around him. Scott and Isaac return for English and the two werewolves glare down Ethan as he returns late to class, taking the empty seat next to Stiles and flashing him a grin. Stiles flashes one back before Scott kicks him from the desk behind him.

     Stiles feels his glare of betrayal as he turns back in his desk and tries to pay attention to the lecture in front of him.

     When Miss Blake forces them to pair up with partners, Ethan instantly moves and puts their desks together, claiming Stiles as a partner before Scott has a chance.

     Scott stares at Stiles in horror before Stiles just turns to Ethan, who is smiling, and takes a seat with a ‘sorry’ and a shrug.

     At the same time, Isaac tenses up and glares down the Alpha twin, simultaneously claiming Scott as a partner. Aidan stares at his brother in betrayal and turns to ask Lydia to be his partner for the period. The whole atmosphere turns very tense before Miss Blake moves across the room with a head tilt.

     “Is something wrong here, boys?” She asks the werewolves involved.

     “No ma’am,” Ethan responds quickly. “Just a little partner misunderstanding.” He flashes a toothy smile and Miss Blake smiles.

     “Be careful Ethan,” she chastises, “Walking in late will not score you any points in this classroom.” With that remark, she turns around and walks back to the front of the classroom, her heels clicking against the ground until she reaches the chalkboard.

     As she discusses the assignment, Stiles stares at Ethan curiously.

     “Why did you quickly claim me as a partner?” Stiles whispers and Ethan shrugs once again.

     “Scott was going to be partners with Isaac and Aidan was going to ask to be partners with Lydia. I saved us both to trouble and embarrassment,” Ethan smiles and, once again, Stiles understands this. After all, Scott did have the look that he was going to break the news to Stiles that he would prefer to be friends with Isaac during this period.

     Stiles looks over and expects Danny to be glaring him down for stealing his potential love interest, but instead, Danny is smiling at Stiles and chatting nicely with his fellow team-mate/English partner.

     “So, Hamlet and its relevance to modern surveillance flaws and…” Stiles trails off, not knowing exactly what their topic is.

     “The potential for distorted information and the chaos that follows when someone feels like their privacy is being invaded,” Ethan follows. “Here,” He slides over a slip of paper which already has a half-essay written out on the topic. “I’ve taken this topic in my other high school.”

     “Thanks,” Stiles responds as he looks over the paper, surprised at its accuracy. To be honest, he originally pinned the Alpha twins to be lots of muscle and not much brain power.

     “Are you pulling a ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’ type of thing right now?” Stiles asks, studying the paper in front of him.

     Ethan snorts. “I would not like to consider you an enemy, Stiles. That would be unfair. You are not directly involved and are not involved in this pack debate and to group you with them wouldn’t be very smart.”

     “But my friends are directly involved,” Stiles pushes, glancing over to Scott and Isaac who have turned their dagger glares in his direction.

     “And as I said before, we are not actually aiming to kill anyone,” Ethan corrects.

     “Directly. You are not actually aiming to directly kill someone,” Stiles groans as Ethan nods. He can feel the weight of glares from Aidan, Isaac and Scott burrowing into the back of his neck.

     “And that directly, does not involve me,” Ethan smiles.

     “If you want to make peace with your enemy, you have to work with your enemy. Then he becomes your partner,” Stiles whispers the quotation and shakes his head at the irony of it.

     “Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend,” Ethan quotes right back and Stiles rolls his eyes.

     “Since you two seem to be done based on your quotation of famous civil rights leaders, you can start the class off by presenting your ideas first,” Miss Blake says from behind Stiles, causing him to jump a good foot out of his chair in surprise, which elicits a slight growl from Ethan.

     At this point Aidan is coughing and shifting in his seat while Scott and Isaac have wide, surprised, eyes, looking back and forth between Ethan and Stiles.

     Ignoring all the crazy looks, Stiles presents the topic in front of the class using Ethan’s crazy accurate notes. He sits back down, basking in Miss Blake’s amazement and leans back in his seat smiling at Ethan who shoots him a thumbs up. He doesn’t dare to examine the rest of the room.

     However, in his peripheral vision, he can see Scott sneaking out his phone to send a text message.

     When the bell rings, signaling the end of class, Stiles exits the classroom with a thumbs-up to Ethan and walks into the hallway, expecting Scott and Isaac to follow after.

     What he was not expecting however, was to be shoved against the lockers by his supposed best friend, who is glaring him down like he suddenly insulted Mrs. McCall. Isaac is flanking him, looking sadly down at Stiles.

     “What are you doing becoming all buddy-buddy with Ethan?” Scott demands and before he can question any farther, an equally strong grip pushes Scott backwards and away from Stiles’ face.

     “What are you doing shoving your best friend against a locker?” Ethan questions and Aidan is trailing at a safe distance away, watching the scene with curiosity.

     “I don’t want you around Stiles,” Scott spits out, his voice dripping with venom.

     “Funny, I was under the impression that Stiles was his own person,” Ethan commented back bitterly.

     “Guys, as much as I love people fighting over me, it’s not necessary. Lay off,” Stiles throws his hands up and Ethan stares between Scott and Stiles. He eventually relaxes his posture and smiles back at Stiles.

     “Alright, you have a conversation with your pal here. If he shoves you against a locker again, shoot me a text and I’ll deal with it,” Ethan comments back, winking before starting to walk away.

     “I don’t have your number,” is the only thing that Stiles can think of to even address in this crazy conversation.

     “Yes, you do. Check your phone again,” Ethan doesn’t even turn around and simply walks away, waving back with his brother at his side.

“Thanks for lunch!” Stiles shouts as Ethan turns down the hallway. He digs his phone out in shock and finds a text message from a pre-programmed contact of _Ethan <3 _in his phone. His eyes widen just slightly before looking up to a horrified Isaac and a confused Scott.

“You had lunch with him?” Scott asks, betrayal leaking into his tone.

“Well you weren’t there and I forgot my lunch at home so he offered to buy me one,” Stiles shrugs, trying to not make it into a big deal. Isaac’s horrified expression deepens.

“Wait, he offered to buy you a meal, you accepted and you both ate together?” Isaac asks, very slowly, to avoid confusion.

“Yeah, why?” Stiles asks, suddenly feeling like he missed a very important memo. “Listen, I know he’s against us but I was only pulling a ‘keep your enemies closer’ type of thing,” Stiles was more or less pleading towards Scott to forgive him now.

Again, if it is even possible, Isaac looks even still more horrified.

“Isaac?” Scott asks, uncertain of why the werewolf is acting so odd.

“That explains the growl,” Isaac reasons before hurrying to send off a text message on his phone. Once he sends it, he looks up and glances sympathetically at Stiles.

“I’m guessing you two aren’t well aware of werewolf courting customs?” Isaac responds sheepishly.

“Courting?” Scott gags a little.

“Yeah, seriously,” Stiles smiles at his friend gagging, “Who uses the term ‘courting’ anymore?”

     “Not so aware then,” Isaac notes. “Well, as Derek explained to me and has probably failed to explain to you two, the way a Beta or an Alpha try to court a person is by offering them a meal and asking to share it with them.

“It’s similar to how the wolves do it in the wild. They offer up a slab of choice meat or something to show their affections for other wolves. If the other wolf accepts, it’s a sign that they are willing to let the other wolf show his affection and fight for their own,” Isaac shrugs back against the locker, cowering under the glares of Scott and Stiles.

     Scott’s jaw drops and Stiles starts twitching slightly.

     “So me allowing Ethan to pay for my meal was…” Stiles stutters and looks around, looking for the Alpha.

     “It was an agreement that you will allow him to prove himself to you as a potential mate. In human terms, you agreed to date him,” Isaac says sadly and Scott’s jaw is still wide open. Stiles turns to look at his best friend.

     “Stiles is dating one of the Alpha twins?” Scott asks, shaking himself from his horror.

     “Essentially, yes,” Isaac replies grimly.

     “I’m dating one of the Alpha twins?” Stiles’ eyes widen.

     “It would seem so,” Isaac replies.

     “So when he claimed me as his partner in English he was…” Stiles stops mid-sentence, realization set in.

     “Stop ending your sentences early. Yes, he was staking his claim to you. When Miss Blake scared you and he growled, it was a territorial side bleeding through, trying to alert you that he was willing to protect you from threats,” Isaac explains.

     “That’s kind of cute in a totally deceptive, manipulative sort of way,” Stiles smiles and Scott hits him on the arm.

     “How do we deal with this?” Scott asks Isaac who only turns around and starts walking toward the exit, indicating for the two to follow him.

     They walk straight out the front door where a sleek black car in waiting at the steps of the school, with a familiar sunglasses shaded figure in the driver’s seat.

     “Get in,” Derek growls towards Stiles.

     When Scott moves to get in the car, Derek holds up a hand.

     “Just him,” He points at Stiles, still growling.

     Stiles glances back to Scott and Isaac who grin at him sadly.

     “If I die, I do not want to be buried in a suit. They’re not comfortable,” Stiles argues and Isaac shoves him forward towards the car.

     “Get in the damn car, Stiles,” Derek yells and Stiles slowly gets into the passenger seat.

     As soon as he throws his seatbelt on, Derek puts his foot on the gas pedal to the floor and speed out of the school parking lot, not saying a word.

     Occasionally though, Derek would look over and shoot Stiles a glare.

     Stiles fidgets in his seat, not willing to risk saying anything and wastes his time by sending two text messages.

     _Dad, I_ _’_ _ll be late home from school. Hanging with Scott._

And            

     _Seriously, if they bury me in a tux I will haunt you._


	2. Chronic Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has only started to realize the amount of trouble he is in for accepting a courting request from an Enemy Alpha. After a talk with Derek, and a guest appearance by Peter Hale, he is starting to realize that fate has loaded dice and every roll is against him. He still doesn't know Ethan's intentions for courting him but he wants out. The only three options for breaking a courtship: Accept the mate, Fight the mate and win, or have another competitor in the mix. 
> 
> With the first two options sounding less than favorable, Derek steps up and fulfills the third. 
> 
> What's worse: Being bonded to any enemy Alpha for life or being bonded to the Alpha of your best friend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had half this chapter written prior to publishing the first chapter on AO3 and knew where I was going to go with it. 
> 
> i had no intention of publishing this, this early... My draft button failed and published it off the get-go... So you have another chapter way earlier than I had intended. AO3 needs a queuing system. 
> 
> I'm not a huge fan of fanfics where it jumps straight from two characters being enemies to being in loved and ending up in bed together. Similarly, I'm not a huge fan of writing fics like that. So this will be a little different. 
> 
> This isn't beta'd. I was really excited to finish this last night at like 2am and just proofread it today for any obvious errors. Hence, any errors in this I probably just overlooked on accident. If they're that obvious or bothersome, leave me a comment and I'll be sure to fix them right up! :) 
> 
> Without further ado, chapter two!

**__ **

    From his occasional rides in Derek’s car, or the times when Derek has been injured and riding in his Jeep, Stiles knows full well that the Alpha prefers to travel in almost absolute silence. Occasionally he will dial on the radio and let the music fill up the cab of the car, but more times than not, Derek sits in the driver seat, lost in thought as he speed along the roads. Due to Stiles’ hyperactivity, he and Derek are polar opposites in this area.

     Stiles tries to survey the situation, to see how much Derek knows already. From the harsh tone Derek used when he picked him up, Stiles can only assume he knows every small detail. His mind flashes back to Scott and Isaac sending the occasional stray text message to an unknown someone. More than likely, the two werewolves were reporting the small, juicy details to the Alpha in an attempt to figure out a way to solve the situation. If there’s anyone that knew the subtleties of werewolf politics, without directly going to Peter Hale, it’s Derek.

     Stiles shifts back and forth in his seat, staring out the window as the trees pass behind the glass at light speed, appearing to be nothing more the streaks of various shades of green.

     “Are we going to talk or are you going to brood all day in the driver’s seat? I do have homework to do by tomorrow, you know,” Stiles asks, suddenly finding the silence very suffocating.

     “Are you going to explain why you’ve accepted a courtship request from an enemy Alpha?” Derek growls and Stiles leans back in his seat and pouts.

     “I don’t know crazy werewolf courting rituals. How was I supposed to know that by accepting lunch from him, I was also agreeing to let him win my affections?” Stiles argues, tired of all the confusion he has been facing throughout the day.

     Explaining his situation as the “terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day” was an understatement now. Tack on a few extra adjectives such as atrocious, lousy, awful, poor, dreadful, and cruddy onto that quote and now you’re bordering on understanding the situation.

     “You read a lot, Stiles. Scott has explained to me how, when he first got bitten, you practically acquired a library on werewolves. Which, you know, alerted the hunters in the first place, but that’s not the current issue. Somewhere in all of those books you must have encountered werewolf courting rituals.”

     Stiles thinks back to the first day the thought crossed his mind that Scott was turning into a werewolf. What Derek says in the truth in some sense. He acquired a full library of reading material on werewolf lore and mythology to research Scott’s apparent affliction. His mind flashes back once more to the various chapters in the books he read. He hits himself in the forehead when he realizes there were indeed a few sections on werewolf courting relationships. There were various ways to initiate a courting process among relationships and, as it wasn’t a very important fact at the time (as he was trying to find ways for Scott to control the shift and allow him to channel his impulses before he murdered someone) he failed to commit the details to memory.

     “I’m human and I was starving! How was I supposed to have the slightest clue that Ethan was asking me to date him? I’ve bought Scott meals before, does that mean we are dating too?” Stiles asks, yelling as he realizes the situation that he is in right now.

     “You never had the intention of courting Scott, so no. Stiles, you run with werewolves. If you’re in the circle of people who know we even exist, you are expected to know all the subtleties of werewolf politics and that includes courtship and dating,” Derek runs a hand through his hair and eases back on the gas pedal, allowing the car to slow down to the legal and acceptable speed limit.

     “That’s a ridiculous standard to hold people to. Scott didn’t even know the courting processes of werewolves and he is one!” Stiles argues, trying to make his case that he really didn’t know he was agreeing to go out with the Alpha twin.

     “That’s his fault for failing to look up the information,” Derek bites out coldly.

     “Oh, god forbid we had more important things to do like, y’know, stopping a homicidal Alpha, a homicidal Kanima and keeping an eye on the Alpha pack,” Stiles is getting frustrated and pulls his arms over his chest and slumps into the corner of his chair, trying to distance himself from Derek.

     “Stiles, you’re doing the werewolf equivalent of dating one of the enemy Alphas,” Derek rephrases and Stiles sighs.

     “Are we going to keep talking about how I’m at fault or do you want to propose a good idea as to how to solve this,” Stiles asks.

     Derek glares at him before tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

     “So you have no intention of dating the other Alpha?” Derek asks, seeming a bit calmer from his angry outburst earlier.

     “Dating him?” Stiles asks incredulously, shaking his head suddenly. “Definitely not. I thought he was just trying to be friendly,” Stiles admits, bowing his head.

     “Unfortunately,” Derek starts and Stiles immediately feels his heart drop into his abdomen at this single word. “As you agreed to allow Ethan to demonstrate his affections, according to our standards, you need to see this through to the end. The acceptance basically means he will fight for your heart. In human terms, you will need to fight against him to spurn these affections, accept him as your mate or have someone else fight for your affection.”

     Even before Derek finished delivering him with his list of options, Stiles’ head is against the dashboard and he is trying his hardest to not start hyperventilating. He really doesn’t feel like catapulting himself straight into a panic attack in front of Derek. Derek is already holding the superiority card from being an Alpha werewolf. He doesn’t need more leverage with the added fact the Derek seems more emotionally composed than him.

     “Oh god, I’m going to be forever dating an Alpha werewolf who happens to be in a pack that is trying to slaughter my friends,” Stiles moans and hides his face in his hands. He can’t see any possible way out of this.

     He can’t take on the Alpha werewolf. The fact that Stiles is human also directly correlates to the fact that he will be destroyed within a second of the fight’s beginning. Also, if Ethan has his way, he will be turned into a werewolf in the fight.

     “Stiles,” Derek calls but Stiles is too lost in his head to hear his name. _I’m going to have to date Ethan. My dad doesn’t even know I like men. Oh dear god, do I like men? I’m going to be dating a werewolf forever. A homicidal werewolf. Must find loophole, must find a way to…_

And suddenly a hand on his shoulder pulls him out of his existential crisis.

     “Stiles,” Derek calls again and Stiles lifts up his head to look the Alpha in the eyes. “You’re not going to be tied to him,” Derek growls and Stiles shakes his head.

     “I can’t fight him Derek,” Stiles urges. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m human,” Stiles urges and flails his arms, desperate to portray his hopelessness at this time. “He will turn me into chili in a second if I fight him!”

     “He won’t kill you if he’s trying to make you his mate,” Derek reassures and Stiles gags. “And you’re forgetting that I’m an Alpha werewolf as well,” Derek grins, showing off his sharp teeth in a malicious grin.

     “I haven’t forgotten I just can’t see how you relate to my problem right now,” Stiles whines and shifts in his seat, staring out the window instead of Derek.

     _I’m going to have to tell my Dad I’m dating Ethan. I’m going to have to tell Scott I’m dating Ethan. Why am I dating Ethan?_

He sighs as they pull up to Derek’s apartment, feeling his anxiety creep full force into his chest as he shifts gears into Park. When Derek turns the key and shuts the car off, he practically loses his mind.

     “Let’s discuss this inside,” Derek suggests and Stiles complies without a word. He shoves the door open and steps out, nagging himself every second for giving in to his craving for food. He follows wordlessly as Derek leads him inside, fumbles with his keys for a few minutes before entering the apartment and ushering him into his loft.

     Stiles crumbles into the couch and he hears some rustling in the kitchen. He pulls his knees up to his chest and glares down at the rest of his room, blaming the inanimate objects for his current predicament.

     Derek walks back in with a can of soda and shoves it in Stiles’ direction. He takes a seat in the recliner across from him.

     “So there’s no way for me to be like ‘Gee, Ethan. It’s not you, it’s me. Well, it's you. You’re kind of a homicidal enemy Alpha and I didn’t know I was agreeing to date you’. No way at all?” Stiles asks, pulling the tab on the can and opening it up. He takes a sip and prepares himself for Derek’s inevitable negative answer.

     “No, there’s not,” Derek regretfully answers, bowing his head.

     “So how am I going to get out of a forced relationship short of Witness Protection?” Stiles asks. He thinks for a moment. “Is Witness Protection an option?” Stiles picks his head up, looking at Derek.

     “What? No! You didn’t witness any crime. Well, any crime that wasn’t werewolf related. Shut up Stiles. Be serious,” Derek shakes off the response and glares at the teenager.

     “I’m using humor to disguise my internal freak out,” Stiles admits.

     “Really? Wouldn’t have guessed,” Derek remarks and rolls his eyes. “What I want to know is why Ethan has shown an interest in courting you. Have you come onto him in any way?” Derek ask and Stiles gags again.

     “Come onto him?” Stiles pretends to choke violently. “No! No way!” Stiles has turned an embarrassing shade of light red, as a result from his choking and current social situation.

     “So his request came out of the blue?” Derek questions, eyes narrowed.

     “His question rose from the depths of the ocean like the Kraken, barreled towards me at light speed and hit me full force like an asteroid plummeting to earth,” Stiles emphasized.

     Derek rolls his eyes again. “So, that’s a yes.”

     “I’m guessing you’re sensing nothing but bad intentions,” Stiles remarks.

     “You know the Alpha Pack. You’ve seen what they can do. Hell, I’ve felt it. Nothing good comes from Ethan courting you. The only thing I don’t understand is _why_ he is courting you. Making you his mate offers him no advantage against us,” Derek’s eyes narrow and he rubs at his chin. “

     “Could it be that he has fallen completely and irrevocably in love with me in the short time he has known me, and despite the facts that we are star-crossed lovers, he wishes to have me as his mate and heal the frayed ends of our pack’s rivalries?” Stiles asks seriously, not letting a grin tug the corners of his lips upward, something that would undoubtedly reveal the essence of his joke.

     “No and frankly, I never pinned you down as someone who reads chick romance novels,” Derek winces and shakes his head, probably trying to rid himself of some terrible mental image.

     “He could be trying to upset you or Scott. Does courting me infringe on someone’s territory or something since like, I’m an un-official member of Scott’s pack… I think,” Stiles trails off, quite unsure of where he stands in all of these political hierarchies and fragmented groups.

     Derek’s eyes widen a little.

     “He could be calling out Scott…” Derek trails off. “Typically, if someone from an outside pack wants to court someone from another pack, they have to ask permission of the Alpha or it would be considered an act of invasion.”

     “So he wants to fight Scott?” Stiles’ eyes widen in response, afraid for the safety of his best friend.

     “No, I’m Scott’s Alpha, even if he doesn’t acknowledge it. He’s lucky that I have been keeping him on a long leash. He didn’t ask me permission to court you, and since you’re a human member of Scott’s pack, you’re a human member of mine,” Derek growls, finally realizing the threat that the Alpha pack are for everyone associated to Derek.

     Stiles hears the door to Derek’s apartment open but Derek doesn’t look towards the opening door.

     “Did I hear something about an act of invasion?” A voice asks curiously and Stiles groans as he associates it immediately as Peter Hale. “Wow, great to see you too…” Pete glares at Stiles.

     “This isn’t any of your business at the moment,” Derek growls, turning around to face the ex-Alpha.

     “Oh, hey… our pack is under threat of war and it’s none of my business. Definitely calms me down,” Peter replies sarcastically, making himself at home as he sags down on the couch next to Stiles.

     Derek sighs before looking at Stiles. Knowing what he is asking, Stiles shrugs, feeling pretty apathetic at the moment.

     “One of the Alpha twins, Ethan, just tricked Stiles into a courtship,” Derek’s fists clench and he squares his shoulders upward, making himself take up more space in the armchair.

     “Ouch,” Peter replies, looking at Stiles with a look of empathy. “And he didn’t even ask your permission. So what’s the game plan?” Peter rubs his hands together, ready for some action.

     “We haven’t formed one yet,” Derek grinds his teeth together. “We are trying to figure out his intentions.”

     “Intentions be damned, he infringed on your territory and started courting one of your human pack members without permission,” Peter leans forward, suddenly picking up an angry demeanor. “If something like that happened back when I was Alpha, I would have beheaded them.” Peter looks at Derek like he wants to chastise him for his lack of pack control.

     “But you’re not Alpha anymore,” Derek smiles evilly, showing his teeth to get Peter to back down. “It’s complicated by the fact that Ethan comes from an Alpha pack and eliminating him for the indiscretion,” Derek grits his teeth again “will only start a war we are not prepared for.”

     “He is going to kill me, isn’t he?” Stiles asks quietly, not really wanting to hear the answer.

     “No,” both Derek and Peter answer simultaneously.

     “I say,” Peter starts looking up and down at Stiles. “Since Ethan can’t kill him now that he’s courting him, and neither can his pack…” Peter trails off with a smile that makes Stiles very uneasy. “We can have Stiles get close to Ethan and reveal information about the Alpha pack. He’ll be our inside man.”

     “No,” Derek repeats and Stiles’ eyebrows scrunch together indicating deep thought.

     “Why can’t he kill me?” Stiles is curious.

     “You don’t kill your courted. But, for some odd reason he ends up doing exactly that,” Peter answers. “The pack of the deceased can, and has a duty to, kill the murderer with no retribution. A death for a death. It’s werewolf politics. You don’t kill someone you’re in love with.”

     “He’s in love with me?” Stiles asks again and Derek sighs and rubs his eyes with his palms, looking extremely frustrated at the situation.

     “Putting him in as a spy is too dangerous. Ethan might not be able to kill him but Deucalion can,” Derek argues.

     “No, he can’t. His pack member is courting Stiles. Ethan will defend Stiles to the death,” Peter counters and Stiles finally feels what Derek is feeling. _Hopelessness._ He throws his hands in the air and groans, curling in on himself on the couch.

     “So, I get close to Ethan and get some juicy details about the other Alphas?” Stiles asks Peter, not sure if he’s willing to go along with the plan yet.

     “Exactly,” Peter grins a toothy smile. “Now you’re getting it. Turn this trick into something positive for us.”

     “Peter, can you offer something helpful like how to get Stiles out of the courtship?” Derek growls, his patience running thin.

     “Let’s see,” Peter leans forward. “Death,” he holds up a finger. “Stiles fighting the Alpha, so death again,” he holds up another finger. “And someone else fighting for his heart,” he holds up a third. “Stiles how do you feel about dying?” Peter asks and Stiles looks around the room.

     “That if they bury me in a tux, I will haunt everyone,” he replies, sagging into the couch.

     “Stiles isn’t dying,” Derek rolls his eyes. “Alright, as I’m rightfully pissed that someone infringed on my pack without my permission, and I’m fairly sure whatever Ethan is up to does not bode well for any of the pack, I’m going to do something about it,” Derek guarantees.

     “What?” Peter and Stiles ask simultaneously, curiosity evident in their voices.

     “Stiles, how do you feel about getting dinner together when I drop you off at the school to get your truck?” Derek asks with a smile and Peter’s eyes narrow.

     “Well, I am kind of hungry,” Stiles nods. “But I don’t see how this is going to solve the Alpha-sized problem.”

     Peter lightly smacks his hand into his face and frowns.

     “You’re not allowed to let anyone buy you food ever again,” Peter groans. “What Derek is asking is if you want to court him because, at this point, he’s the only one who can go against Ethan in open competition.”

     Stiles’ mouth gapes open as he turns his head slowly to look at Derek. Before today, he was shouting at people to pay attention to him, that even though he wasn’t a werewolf he was still worth people’s time. Scott ran away to bond with werewolf pals and no one seemed bothered by things that didn’t include immediate death as the price for ignoring them. In the past few days, Stiles has felt lonelier than ever.

     Suddenly, Ethan shows up out of nowhere and shakes his world apart. He wants to court him and now Derek is following after. Hell, he’s not even sure he likes either one of the competing Alphas but he is certainly feeling the stress from being involved in werewolf politics. In the past week he has been concerned about dying for the sole reason that he is a virgin. He has also been living in constant fear that a member of the ever-plotting Alpha pack would rip him apart in his own house. To escalate things now, he’s quite certain he is going to be tied to a werewolf mate for the rest of his life.

     “Stiles,” Derek pulls him out of his reverie. “At this current moment, I have no clue what Ethan has plotted so the only thing I can do is make a pre-emptive strike. The only way to slow a mating is too also court you and force Ethan into competition with me. It may not be the most comfortable thing for the both of us but it’ll warrant off some of Ethan’s advances and whatever Deucalion is plotting,” Derek rubs his hands together, expecting an answer or at least consent from Stiles.

     “You… want me to date you?” Stiles asks, still not believing the current situation. “It has literally come to the pick-up line ‘If you don’t date me, you’ll die’?” Stiles laughs, trying to ease the tension in his muscles and in his mind. Derek’s lips pull into a frown.

“You won’t die but you’ll be Ethan’s mate for a lifetime,” Derek emphasizes.

 “Dinner sounds good,” Stiles straightens up in his seat. “I’m feeling Italian or some quality sandwiches right now,” Stiles smiles and Derek shakes his head and rolls his eyes. He rubs at the back of his head.

“How did I end up in the situation?” Derek laughs lightly, probably employing Stiles’ age-old tactic of using humor to lighten the situation.

In the other seat, Peter is shifting uncomfortably and checks his watch several times. “I’ve got things to do,” he says and points to the door. “I congratulate you on your new courting arrangement,” He waves as he steps up to leave, closing the door behind him.

“Come on,” Derek stands. “I’ll take you back to get your car,” he motions and Stiles follows him out of the apartment.

“My tire is flat,” Stiles frowns, remembering the bad morning he had.

“You know how to change a flat tire,” Derek replies sarcastically as he climbs into the front seat of his car and keys on the engine.

Stiles scoffs and fidgets in his seat, trying to remain quiet for a large portion of the car-ride. Eventually, he feels himself drifting off to sleep, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier at the passing lights and sound of the purring car engine.

Soon enough, Stiles is out cold in the passenger seat, his head leaning against the cool glass of the window. His seatbelt is near choking him so, in a manner as to not wake the sleeping teen (who has no doubt had a very stressful day) Derek rolls his eyes and pulls the seatbelt down, letting it rest behind sagged shoulders. Derek glances upon a sleeping Stiles with a small smile before catching himself and stiffening up his posture in the driver’s seat. From then on out, he keeps his eyes straight on the road and refuses to move them. Occasionally, his willpower slips and his eyes roam over to the passenger seat. He reassures himself by claiming in the front of his mind that it’s only to make sure Stiles isn’t going to launch straight into a panic attack at the worry of all his pack-related problems stacking up. If Stiles dies in his sleep, in Derek’s car, things would be awfully suspicious. If Ethan even thinks Derek murdered his courted, he can bring Derek before a superior clan of Alphas and have him killed without retribution. He is doing things for his own self-interest. After all, there is no way at all that Derek Hale could feel soft towards someone like Stiles Stilinski.

The next time that Stiles wakes up, someone is forcing a hot box of food onto his lap and shaking him awake. Stiles wakes up with a startle and looks around, noticing the interior of Derek’s care. The events of the day come rushing back and Stiles looks down through unfocused eyes at the black box in front of him.

Stiles fumbles around with the box before opening it and revealing a steaming hot box of Chicken Parmesan, ready-made authentic Italian food. Stiles looks at it for a moment before looking back at Derek. Once the confusion fades, he blinks a few times and looks around.

“Where are we?” Stiles asks, not noticing the surroundings outside of the car. When was the last time Beacon Hills had a pond?

“On the Preserve,” Derek describes. “About a third of the way in,” He comments and Stiles is too half-asleep to even mentally map-out their current location.

“You went with Italian,” Stiles comments happily as Derek hands over some cheap silverware and a few napkins. Derek grins before fumbling around in the back of the car.

     After finding whatever he was looking for, Derek opens the door to his car and steps outside. Stiles takes this as a hint and resists the urge to dive straight into the meal. Instead he closes the box and steps out the car, following Derek’s lead and lounging on the front of the Camero, balancing the box on his lap. From a box to his right, Derek withdraws two wine glasses and a bottle of wine, the brand of which is hidden from Stiles (not that he’s much a wine connoisseur to identify it even if he saw the label).

     “I’m not 21,” Stiles mumbles and Derek laughs.

     “You’re letting two Alpha werewolves court you,” Derek grins. “I think being underage is the least of your problems,” He answers as he sets his food box to his left. He hands Stiles an empty glass and pours some red liquid into the glass. He repeats the same process for his own glass.

     “You’re really trying to out-do Ethan, aren’t you?” Stiles asks, trying to fight off the feeling of discomfort at the awkward situation. In werewolf terms, Derek has just taken him out on a date. With a single bite of his food, he will seal a new aspect of their relationship.

     Derek and Stiles set their drinks on the car and reposition the food boxes on their laps. Derek takes a bite of his own pasta and looks at Stiles expectantly. Stiles cuts out a portion of the chicken and picks it up hesitantly with the fork.

     “You have the right to decline, y’know,” Derek replies casually, leaning back against the hood. “I’m not going to pull an Ethan and force you into anything.”

     “Nah,” Stiles shakes his head and bites into his food. “I know. I was just thinking of how crazy this day has been and how much Scott is going to kill me after this.” Stiles shrugs and enjoy the taste of his food. From what he can tell, it’s real high quality Italian food.

     “Scott can’t kill you now,” Derek grins, showing his teeth again. “You have two Alphas currently courting you.”

     “Yeah,” Stiles looks down at his food and pushes some of it around the box. He takes a sip of wine and enjoys the deep taste of it. Italian food and wine were meant to be together. “Thank you for this,” Stiles mumbles and Derek just nods next to him, looking out at the wide pond in front of them.

     The pond isn’t very large but it is quite scenic. Water reeds grow up along the corner and vibrant flowers speckle the grass around the pond. He can hear several song birds reciting melodies and the flutter of insect wings. The sun hasn’t started setting yet so everything is still illuminated and bathed in light. The pond is a crystal clear blue and Stiles, if he strains his eyes, can almost see the clay bottom of the pond. There are small fish, barely the size of goldfish, swimming around in the water. He wonders if Derek comes here often.

     “What happens if you lose against him?” Stiles asks suddenly, breaking the silence. “Ethan, that is,” he clarifies.

     “You will be Ethan’s mate and will be in his pack,” Derek replies calmly, reassuring Stiles silently that he has no intention of letting that happen.

     “I thought members of the Alpha pack couldn’t have their own pack, that they have to kill them to become stronger,” Stiles worries.

     “They don’t have to. It’s not something necessary,” Derek reassures once more. “Killing your pack lends you power, absorbs their individual energies, becoming multiple wolf spirits in one human body. It’s barbaric and it’s cruel, it’ll blacken your life. If Ethan does have some love towards you, he’ll keep you in his pack and will risk the upset of power.”

     “But he could kill me and make himself more powerful?” Stiles requests.

     “No, he won’t kill you. Wolves don’t kill their mates. If he wanted to kill you to become stronger, he would have simply turned you instead of courting you,” Derek answers harshly and Stiles nods. Apparently it’s a touchy subject for Derek.

     “Do I get the final say in who I want for a mate?” Stiles knows he is pestering Derek with questions, often times with a full mouth before chewing, but he wants to figure out how all of this works.

     “No,” Derek decides. “Your decision came in letting Ethan and I court you. In the end, it’ll be a fight between us to see who would be better suited as your mate,” Derek admits and Stiles shudders at the mental image of Ethan and Derek, wolfed out, fighting against each other. “I’ll explain it more in detail later. Just let us fight over you. We are all kind of winging it at this point,” Derek responds, taking the final bite of his pasta and shutting the box. He down his wine with a few more sips.

     “I don’t mind the idea of two people fighting for my affection,” Stiles grins, teasing Derek lightly.

     “Don’t get used to it,” Derek growls. It’s different from his threatening deep sounds though and it’s a little more light-hearted and in good nature.

     “What happens if you win?” Stiles asks, unsure of what happens in Derek is to be the better mate.

     “You mean _when_ I win? You become my mate,” Derek shrugs likes it’s no big deal and let’s Stiles finish his meal. A few more bites and the fancy boxed meal is gone. He savors the taste of the last bit of wine and crawls off the hood of the car, checking behind to make sure he hasn’t soiled the black surface. He wants to speak again but Derek picks up a look indicating this is the last time he will talk of any final endings and mating information for the night.

     Stiles throws his garbage into a bag that Derek offers out and, after cleaning up their mess, they head back into the car and back out of the preserve, heading towards the high school.

The sun is setting now and by the time they pull back into the school’s lot, shadows are cast like haphazard stains onto the dark concrete. Derek pulls close to Stiles’ car and lets him out.

     Stiles groans at the thought of changing his tire while he is so full. He circles the car and holds his breath while inspecting the damage on the right back tire.

     Expecting to see a flat, he is quite surprised when he finds a new tire on the Jeep, the flat from earlier today gone without a trace. Before he can even contemplate how his car was fixed, he sees a small white note taped to his window. He lifts it off carefully.

     Inside, the note says: 

     _Saw you leaving with Hale earlier and noticed the flat tire. Thought I would replace it for you so you don’t have to do it later tonight. You looked like you were having a rough day. Text me if you want. –Ethan_

Stiles almost forgets his anger at the Alpha and smiles at the nice gesture. Derek may have style, but Ethan is drowning him in kindness apparently.

     He can’t dwell on the sentiment however, as a figure walks up to the side of Stiles and grabs the note out of his hands.

     After a moment of Derek reading the note in silence, Derek scoffs and hands the note back.

     “Well, I’ll give him this,” Derek grins. “He knows what he is doing.”

     “Worried that you have tight competition?” Stiles asks, laughing at Derek’s indignant expression while he was reading the note. He looked downright pissed earlier at the thought of someone out-doing him.

     “Worried that you might forget who your pack is and fall in love with that manipulative jerk,” Derek smiles and taps the new tire, inspecting it. After finding it satisfactory, he walks around the car and escorts Stiles into his car. He even opens the door of the Jeep for Stiles to climb in. When he sits in the driver’s seat, Derek closes the door and stares at Stiles.

     “Good night _Princess,_ ” Derek snorts as Stiles turns on the Jeep.

     Stiles has to resist the urge to also snorting at the comment.

     “You keep forgetting the moments we share, _love,”_ Stiles responds sarcastically. “I did almost cut off your arm that one time, after you threatened to rip out my throat of course,” Stiles remembers, feigning a smile.

     “How could I have forgotten that fated event?” Derek shakes his head at the mental image and slips his sun glasses on slickly, tapping Stiles’ door and turning around.

“Will I be okay driving?” Stiles yells out. “I did just drink wine,” His voice tainted with concern.

“You’ll be fine. It was one glass. You’re not a lightweight,” Derek yells back. He waves his goodbye with his back turned.

“Zero tolerance!” Stiles yells, referring to the fact that minors couldn’t have any alcohol in their system if they are pulled over by cops.

“You’re right,” Derek responds. “I don’t have any tolerance for you yet,” He turns his head back and grins one final time.

He slips into his own car and turns away, leaving Stiles alone in the parking lot.   

     In his own car, Stiles sighs at the note and his reflection of today’s events. He is currently dating two men that any girl in his high school would die for a chance to have a single moment with and all he feels is stress. He wonders how he will feel after a full night’s rest, if rest will actually find him tonight.

     His head is a mess of rambling thoughts and possible plots and he can’t seem to separate them anymore. Does he even like either of the men he essentially promised the remainder of his life to? Even though he knows procrastination won’t help him, he agrees to have an existential crisis later in the confines of his bedroom, rather than being emotionally compromised and driving recklessly back home.

     He shoots a single text message to Scott.

     To: Scott McCall (7:23:46PM) - _Derek didn’t kill me so put away the tux. We need to talk later though_

He puts his phone in the cup-holder of his car and pulls out of the school parking lot, eager to get home and reflect on the events of today.

     At the same time, Derek Hale is racing back to his apartment with a similar expression; ready to get back home and contemplate future plans of attack. In the back seat are remains of a shared meal, a meal that sealed a courting ritual between himself and Stiles. He is not sure what he feels towards the hyperactive teenager but he is willing to go to some extremes to prevent him from falling into the clutches of the Alpha Pack and, also as bad, the open arms of a certain Alpha named Ethan. Along with the meal boxes and scraps are two dirty wine glasses and a bottle that now sits label up on the floor. It is labelled: _Sparkling Red Grape Juice._ Stiles was wrong. He would have known the brand had he seen it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the second chapter.  
> I published it way earlier than I had intended, and didn't get to proof-read it completely so I apologize.  
> Also, as I'm starting to notice, sometimes the formatting moves on this story and refuses to indent some of my dialogue. I've tried to fix it multiple times but I'm having issues keeping it the right way. Hopefully it isn't too much of a nuisance for you readers. 
> 
> I'll work towards getting the new chapter up as soon as I can. I can't promise daily updates but I'll sure try for it. These chapters have also been longer than I intended so, some in the future will be shorter. 
> 
> Drop your kudos and comments here, I love hearing from you guys!  
> So- what sides are you on?  
> Team Ethan or Team Derek? (It's a Sterek fic- don't worry!)


	3. "Good Morning! We don't want any adventures here, thank you!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles heads home after a dinner-out with Derek. The unfortunate problem arises when Sheriff Stilinski finds Ethan's note on Stiles' drivers seat. Not only this, but Ethan makes an early morning trip to Stiles' house and offers him breakfast and coffee.   
> Ditching out on Scott and Isaac, the pack worries the worst when they don't hear from Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been longer since I normally update but that's because I'm releasing a double chapter. Two chapters at once. I tried to make it all one chapter but it ended up being 18 pages and that's too long for one part... so... here you go... Dual release.
> 
> Don't hang on the ending of this one, go straight to the next one! :)

       Stiles doesn’t face any questions from his father when he walks back in the door. Sheriff Stilinski must have received the text message and must still be under the impression that Stiles has spent the day with Scott. Scott, being a good best friend, probably kept up with this lie.

      “Do you want any dinner?” His father asks, leaning back from the table where he is slumped over some case files and paper work, two fingers of bourbon resting on his knee.

      “No thanks, I already ate. I’m going to do some homework,” Stiles points up to his room and his father just nods, going back to perusing his cold cases.

      Stiles grabs a bottle of iced tea from the fridge and make his way up to his room, throwing his stuff on his bed and sifting through his papers, slowly prioritizing the work he needs to do before sleep. English report, math homework, history assignment, and a physics worksheet. With the events of today still fresh in his mind, he is finding it even more difficult than normal to concentrate. His mind keeps wandering.

      He wants to go back in time a week and kick himself for wanting a relationship. What he should have wished for was a normal relationship, where at least one of the people you are dating has feelings for you and aren’t using you as a sort of endgame.

      With half of his English report on Shakespeare done, he pulls his phone out and checks his Inbox.

      From Scott McCall (8:20:15PM): _Did Derek help you?_

      Stiles smirks at the thought of Scott finding out he and Derek are currently “dating”. It was bad enough when Scott thought he was dating Ethan, but to find out that Stiles is dating another werewolf as well? If Scott had it his way, Stiles would not be involved in the werewolf world at all.

      To Scott McCall (8:30:53PM): _You can say that. It’s more of a face-to-face conversation._

From Ethan <3 (8:31:40PM): _Did you get home safely?_

Stiles receives, waiting for Scott’s text message. Stiles quickly groans and goes to his contacts to remove the “<3” from Ethan’s name. After he fixes that problem, he replies.

_To Ethan (8:33:2OPM): Yeah, I’m still alive. Doing the Shakespeare paper so I wish I wasn’t. Thanks for replacing my tire._

Stiles sends, not wanting to worry Ethan to the point where he very well might come over and check on him. He really doesn’t want to have the conversation with his father yet.

He sends an additional message to Derek to sort out what to do in this situation.

      To Derek Hale (8:33:56PM): _Should I ignore Ethan or…?_

He gets an answer back quickly.

      From Derek Hale (8:34:50): _No, that won’t work. He’ll just try harder. He’s courting you. Enjoy the ride and get information as you go along. I don’t even want to know how you got my number._

Honestly, he got the number from Scott from the numerous events that triggered him to ask for Derek’s help. Secretly, he knew what Derek’s answer was going to be. He made the hole, might as well let Ethan start throwing the dirt on.

      From Scott McCall (8:35:01PM): _Meet me tomorrow morning outside of school._

From Ethan (8:35:32PM): _Do you need help on the paper? Mine’s done._

To Ethan (8:36:01PM): _I think I can tackle this paper but thanks for the offer!_

Stiles sets his phone back down and tries to shut out social problems from his mind enough to get his work done. He can’t add falling behind in school to his list of current problems.

      After finalizing his homework and while working on the last problem of his physics worksheet, Stiles hears a knock on his door. He turns his head to watch his father come into his room with a slip of paper in his hand.

      Stiles eyes widen and his mouth drops quickly at the sight of the paper, knowing exactly what his father is holding.

      “I went to move your car into the driveway and I found this in the passenger seat. Did you run a flat today?” His father asks and Stiles really doesn’t want to him this conversation right now.

      “Uh yeah… luckily a friend of mine replaced it for me so it isn’t much of a problem,” Stiles explains, faking a smile.

      “And you left school with a Hale? Derek Hale?” His dad asks and Stiles finally remembers the exact contents of the notes.

      “Yeah, he’s friend with Scott…” Stiles lies, trying to hide his deception. “We hung out at his apartment.” Stiles shrugs.

      “Scott is friends with Derek Hale? The same Derek Hale you accused of murder and had locked up?” His dad asks and suddenly Stiles feels like this is more of an interrogation than a friendly conversation between father and son.

      “Uh.. yeah?” Stiles answers, unsure of how to proceed now that his lie is being uncovered. Time to go for half-truths. “We realized it was all a misunderstanding and we are more similar than we thought.” Stiles nods and his father sighs from the corner of the room. He isn’t lying. It was all a misunderstanding and Derek was only burying his sister that Peter had killed.

      “And this Ethan kid just decided to do something generous and replace your tire for you while you were hanging out with Scott?” His father inquires again, crossing his arms to indicate he isn’t believing a single words that Stiles is saying.

      “Yes,” Stiles answers quickly. “He’s a nice person,” Stiles offers.

      “Okay,” Sheriff Stilinski responds, raising his arms in defeat. “You finish your homework?”

      “Just finishing up my homework now,” Stiles smiles, happy that his father is happy enough to provide him with a long leash. He’s not strung out, drunk or in jail yet so, as Sheriff, his father should be pretty proud of him. He is however, hiding illicit murderers, running away from the authorities, hiding information from the authorities and running with werewolf packs. Ouch, some sudden sense of shame sets in.

      His father walks over and sets the note on Stiles’ desk, glancing down at his son’s almost-complete assignment. He puts a hand on Stiles’ head and ruffles his hair affectionately before turning around.

      “I’m heading to bed. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow and a board meeting. Don’t pull an all-nighter. Good night,” His father waves and heads out into the hallway.

      “Good night!” Stiles yells back, staring down at his physics homework, and the apparently unsolvable problem that is basically asking him to rewrite the laws of physics and invent a trans-temporal teleporter.

      Stiles sighs and picks up his phone, not really sure of what to do next. He really needs to get a good mark on this paper or he’ll get held behind after class again, lectured on his need to concentrate.

      To Ethan (8:50:12PM): _911\. #5 Physics. Either the dog is flying or my answer is wrong._

Stiles bounces up and down, hoping Ethan will help him. He would ask Scott but chances are, Scott is buddying it up with Isaac and hasn’t even thought about starting his Physics assignment yet.

      From Ethan (8:52:15PM): _Check units. Turn km/min to m/s or you’ll get the wrong answer. The dog’s not flying on this one._

Stiles hits himself in the forehead after realizing his mistake. He quickly finishes up his worksheet and packs his bag for tomorrow morning.

      To Ethan (9:04:20PM): _Thank you so much! Good night._

Stiles responds and plugs his phone into the wall. He has no intentions of going to bed early tonight though. Instead, he digs atop his desk and pulls out a book on werewolves. He honestly had no excuse to keep the books after finally realizing Scott actually had Lycanthropy. However, he convinced himself he should keep them around in case Scott gets particularly moody. That way he can throw the books at him and blame it on his “monthly problem.”

      He flips through the Table of Contents of several books before finding an obscure section on “Werewolf mating.” He sits under his desk lamp, hunched over the book, trying to absorb as much information as possible.

      Halfway through the chapter, he begins to feel his eyes closing on him. To his favor, he actually makes it to bed and falls over, fully clothed with the book on his face before he drifts into a deep slumber.

      He doesn’t dream that night.

[Fast Forward: Morning]

      This was not the first night that Stiles has fallen asleep fully clothed with books in his bed. This is the first day however, he has woken up hearing voice outside his room.

      “Does he always sleep like this,” a voice laughs.

      “Sadly, he does fall asleep like this. Tell him I’m heading off to work. I’ve got an early conference since a missing person report came in with a tip off about murder. Make sure he gets to school?” His dad’s voice asks and Stiles groans once he recognizes it.

      “Sure will. Have a good day Sheriff,” The unknown voice answers. Stiles digs deep in his half-asleep brain to match it to someone he knows who would possibly be in his room this early. It’s definitely not Scott.

      “C’mon,” The voice asks and he feels a tap at his foot. Stiles jumps nearly three feet in the air at the unexpected contact and is awake with a sudden startle. The book that was lounging on his face while sleeping flies up also, landing, still open, and right into Ethan’s hands. Ethan. _What is Ethan doing here? “_ Werewolf Mating Rituals and Trends. Why ever would you be reading this?” The asshole grins and Stiles wants to crawl into the deepest hole possible and stop breathing.

      “Ethan,” Stiles groans. “The better question is why ever would you be in my room at this hour?” He looks over at his alarm clock and sees the bright green numbers read out 6:00. He tries to smother himself with a pillow.

      “I figured I would come and drop off breakfast. Also your dad left early, something about a meeting about a missing body,” Ethan frowns and Stiles perks up, sitting up in bed, at the mention of food.

      “Okay, the food definitely prevents me from being moody,” Stiles sits up and straightens out his shirt and jeans. He feel asleep in clothing again.

      “Pancakes sound good?” Ethan asks, pointing to the kitchen.

      “Mmm,” Stiles responds, rubbing at the back of his head, still half-asleep. “Shower does too though,” He groans as he stands, feeling the disadvantages of sleeping in jeans and a belt during the night. His back and legs are killing him.

      “Go shower then, we have time before school,” Ethan indicates and walks out of Stiles’ room, probably heading for the kitchen.

      Stiles, his brain still moments behind on things, stumbles into the bathroom and locks the door tightly behind him. He manages to shower quickly without killing himself. He throws on a random pair of clothes and flies down the stairs, not wanting to leave Ethan alone for too long in his house.

      When he walks into the kitchen, Ethan is lounged at the table, staring at the TV in the living room, with pancakes set out on the table in front of him.

      “Diner of home-cooked?” Stiles asks with a grin.

      “Diner,” Ethan scoffs. “If I ever make you pancakes, you’ll notice,” He laughs, probably insinuating that said pancakes would be burnt to a crisp if he had made them.

      “Chocolate chip?” He asks, examining his plate.

      “Of course,” Ethan comments and Stiles digs into his food, making unholy sounds after the first bite. He’s not used to eating breakfast before school. He’s quite used to being in a rush in the morning, grabbing a granola bar and eating it while driving to school.

      “Want to grab coffee after this? I can drive you to school” Ethan asks, between bites, trying to make some small talk.

      “You’re going to give the most hyperactive kid, possibly on this planet, caffeine? You’re also inviting me into the same car as you after? You must have the patience of a saint,” Stiles laughs.

      “I have all the patience in the world for you... plus there’s a guest speaker in Economic apparently. Someone’s gotta entertain me…” Ethan trails off with a malicious grin.

      “Oh, you’ll have your entertainment,” Stiles smirks back.

      “So…” Ethan starts. “What did Hale want?” He brings up and Stiles almost chokes on the pancakes he is eating.

      “Scott found out about the whole… courting thing or whatever. He came to rant at me that you’re an enemy alpha and yeah… all that stuff,” Stiles tells him, not wanting to disclose the information that he and Derek are also courting at the moment.

      “Yeah,” Ethan scratches the back of his head in embarrassment, crossing his arms around himself. “I got yelled at by Aidan earlier. He didn’t think you knew that I was asking for the permission to court you yesterday,” Ethan grins a half-smile, his face turning an interesting shade of red.

      Stiles waves him off with an indignant noise and hand gesture.

      “I knew,” he laughs before his face drops. “Well, just kidding. I had no clue but I figured it out real quick when Derek was hauling me off,” Stiles shifts in his seat uncomfortably and avoids eye contact.

      “I didn’t want to force this on you or anything. I mean, Are you okay with it?” Ethan asks, equally as uncomfortable. He’s staring straight at Stiles and he can feel the gaze burning on the side of his head.

      “As I’ve heard, it doesn’t matter if I’m okay with it,” Stiles mutters. “I’m kind of stuck.”

      “Well- I guess so. I mean, yeah you are but let me prove myself to you,” Ethan amends and Stiles looks over for a minute to assess the situation. Ethan looks sincere but not a tiny bit ashamed that he had tricked Stiles into a courtship.

      “I guess I’m going along for the ride then,” Stiles smiles back, using Derek’s words to sum up the situation.

      “I just thought you would know about werewolf customs, since you’re Scott’s best friend,” Ethan looks down at the table, this time being the one to avoid eye contact.

      “I know very little information on werewolves and I especially did not think I would be in a relationship with one,” Stiles yells back, exasperated that everyone has been expecting him to know everything on werewolves.

      Ethan swallows and starts biting his lip, looking down at his now empty plate. He takes Stiles’ dirty plate as well and takes it to the sink, starting to wash away the syrup. He dries the dishes and puts them away in silence.

      “I…” He starts but shakes his head. He leans against the counter and looks at Stiles. “Does what I am make me a monster or… is it what I do? Because one of them, I’m kind of locked. The other one offers me some hope that I can redeem myself to you. I can prove to you that the person who turned me didn’t strip all the goodness in my heart away in one bite. You need to let me know if I can escape what they made me or I’m only as good as the man who took my humanity away,” Ethan cleans up the garbage in the kitchen but he has a new demeanor that shows his possible shame and depression.

      Stiles knows that no matter what he says, he will not escape turning down Ethan without sounding like a complete jerk. And no matter how much one part of him, that part that bases things off of Derek’s logic, is telling him to turn down Ethan, break his heart and eliminate any possibility of their relationship working out, he can’t do it.

      “I think you’re the only person who can decide who you are,” Stiles says seriously, standing up and shouldering his backpack.

      Ethan smiles back brightly. “Thank you,” He grabs his own backpack. “I will do my best to prove to you that the person I want to be is worthy of you. Do you want to head out?” He asks and Stiles can’t get over the fact that he had one of his most heart-to-heart moments involving a relationship with a guy.

      “Yeah,” Stiles mutters.

      They spend the rest of the car-ride chatting in small talk, discussing class information instead of anything personal. Along the way, they hit up a coffee shop and Ethan smiles and laughs as he passes a large coffee with extra espresso in it to Stiles.

      “I’m going to annoy you to death,” Stiles warns before his first sip.

      “Oh, I’m hoping on it,” Ethan grins from ear to ear and they make the trip back to the high school.

      When he pulls into the parking lot, he can see Isaac and Scott waiting outside school. Stiles mentally slaps himself and groans. He starts slinking down into the seat.

      “What’s wrong?” Ethan asks as he makes a turn.

      “I told Scott I would meet him earlier. Totally forgot about it…” Stiles nervously laughs. He checks his watch and he only has 10 minutes until first period.

      “Oh,” Ethan realizes. “Go meet up with Scott and I’ll see you in class then,” He offers as he parks his car.

      “Thank you,” Stiles mouths as he runs out of the car and straight to the front of school, trying not to spill his coffee in the process.

      “Where have you been?” Scott yells, clearly irritated at being ditched.

      “I was…” Stiles starts and Isaac growls in Ethan’s direction.

      “Did you come to school with him?” He asks angrily.

      “He picked me up for..” He gets cut off again.

      “And you went with him? You didn’t answer any of my text messages or calls! We texted Derek to see if he was with you or anything but,” Scott starts, visibly freaking out and Stiles decides this is a good time to reverse the roles and cut of his best friend.  Stiles looks down at his phone first to see many missed messages and phone calls. Several are from Derek along the lines of “Where are you?” and “Are you dead?” and “I think I’m going to kill your lover.”

      “You called _Derek_?” Stiles yells, ducking and looking around the parking lot for the mysterious Alpha.

      “Dude, we thought you were dead or something,” Isaac argues, ducking his head low at people now staring.

      “No, I’m fine. Ethan just took me out for coffee this morning,” Stiles ducks as well. He drops his voice to a whisper. “Derek told me not to avoid Ethan anyway.”

      The bell rings somewhere in the distance and all three teenagers groan at the need to hurry to first period.

      As they are walking Scott talks to him.

      “What did Derek decide on anyway? You said he helped you?” Scott asks as they are approaching the door to the classroom.

      “Oh, funny story...” Stiles starts, standing at the doorway. “The only way to deter Ethan, in werewolf standards, is for someone else to court me. So, hey… Derek is courting me now too,” Stiles says nonchalantly and enters the door to the classroom, quickly claiming a seat next to Lydia.

      He barely contains his laughter as he lounges back in his seat, drinking his coffee. Scott and Isaac walk in, jaws dropped, eyes wide staring at him in disbelief.

      Scott takes the seat to the immediate right of him.

      “Are you kidding me?” Scott asks. “And who in their right mind gave you coffee?” Scott asks, staring at the cup in anger. Lydia looks over curiously but stares at the chalkboard afterward, avoiding direct eye contact.

      “No,” Stiles shakes his head. “It’s a longer story than that but that’s what ended up happening.”

      “You solve the problem that an Alpha werewolf is courting you by allowing another Alpha werewolf to court you?” Isaac whispers over his shoulder, a little too loudly.

      Stiles looks around the room and curses when he sees Aidan glaring at him, holding an expression of anger and concern.

      “Later,” Stiles whispers urgently, hiding his head again to avoid the stares from his peers.

      He spends the rest of the period zoning off, anticipating and avoiding Scott’s reaction when they are out of class and Lydia’s knowing glances. He makes it almost through class without incident when there are five minutes left. He raises his hand.

      “Yes Stilinski?” He hears.

      “Can I go to the bathroom like... right now? Large coffee. I had a lot of coffee. Like a gallon of coffee. Here’s my paper can I go right now?” He asks, his hyperness setting in and his desire to get away kicking him full force ahead.

      “Yes, you’re excused,” Is the response and Stiles grabs his stuff and runs out into the hallway, escaping Scott’s glare.

      He runs to the bathroom and stands in there, pacing. He doesn’t want to deal with Scott’s questions and especially with the fact that Aidan overheard them. He always thought he would laugh at Ethan’s reaction when he finally realizes that Derek is asking for a courting competition. Now he is finally realizing what he got himself into. He has two Alpha werewolves, neither of which probably have any romantic connection to him, fighting for his heart. He’s _afraid_ of Ethan’s reaction.

      He splashes some water on his face as he hears the bell ring and runs straight to Economics, wanting to escape Scott’s questioning.

      He’s the first one in the room and is panting by the time he reaches his seat.

      “Stilinski, you’re early,” Coach Finstock says in amazement. “You’re never early. What’s going on?” He asks and pulls a chair down to sit in front of Stiles.

      “Nothing’s wrong at all,” Stiles laughs nervously. “Too much coffee?” He asks, pointing at his half-empty coffee cup.

      Coach just glares down at him and Stiles looks at the kids coming in.

      “I’m avoiding Scott,” Stiles looks away, a bit ashamed at admitting that he’s been ducking out on his best friend.

      “Jealous of his new bromance with Isaac?” His Coach asks, narrowing his eyes.

      “No!” Stiles yells, not wanting to address that issue.

      “Whatever it is, Stilinski, you better resolve the problem. I don’t want this carrying over into cross-country,” He lectures, pointing a finger at Stiles, who only crosses his arms and looks out the window.

      While looking away, and while Coach is speaking, Ethan slides into the seat next to him.

      “What’s wrong?” Ethan asks, sounding concerned.

      Stiles just glares at him, and at Coach (who is still standing there, smugly grinning with Ethan).

      “The problem is your knife suddenly in my back,” He indicates, looking between Ethan and Coach.

      He sees Scott glaring at him as he enters the room, taking a seat on the other side of the room.

      “Stop being a drama queen, Stilinski. Ethan, McCall…. switch places!” He yells and then looks astonished for a minute. “I didn’t think I would ever be forcing you to sit next to each other.”

      “But coach…” Ethan protests and Coach Finstock simply points to Scott’s seat and then back to his own.

      “Switch,” he demands.

      “Sorry,” Ethan mouths and switches seats with Scott.

      “I’m not angry,” Scott says as he sets his stuff down. “I’m just concerned.”

      “Be concerned after class,” Stiles whispers angrily.

      “If McCall and Stilinski have finally resolved their lover’s quarrel, I would like to introduce Mr. Dean Wesson. He’s a stock trader and he’s here to talk about bonds and savings,” Coach “I’m-you-teacher-in-class-not-your-coach” Finstock introduces and Stiles can see Ethan visibly slam his head into the desk in boredom.

      By the end of class, everyone’s asleep at their desk. Stiles uses this to his advantages and takes off as soon as the bell rings, avoiding Scott and Ethan. He spends the next couples of classes doing this.

      He thinks he’s home clear when out of nowhere, on the way to lunch, an arm grabs him and pulls him into an empty room.

      Stiles resists the urge to yell before he turns around and faces his attacker.

      In front of him is Derek Hale, looking royally pissed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go to the next chapter! :)


	4. "People don't always tell you what they are thinking. They just see to it that you don't advance in life."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek makes a surprise appearance at Beacon Hills High School and has lunch with his pack. Ethan finally realizes he has competition, prompting a freak out on Stiles' part. 
> 
> Also- something is wrong in Beacon Hills. A series of missing person reports are pointing to a murderer, but no bodies have been found. That is, until Stiles receives an anonymous text message tip which sends him deep into the woods alone. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING FOR PANIC ATTACKS AND VIOLENCE!! (I want this known beforehand so it doesn't effect anyone. I love you all too much for that)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the fourth chapter, notes to follow at the end.

      “Good to see Ethan didn’t slaughter you violently this morning,” Derek remarks sarcastically. “What is with teenagers and not answering your phones? I’m going to make it a pack rule that whenever someone doesn’t answer their phone in an emergency, I’m going to put them in timeout!”

      “This isn’t an emergency!” Stiles yells back.

      “I thought you were dead,” Derek says seriously and there’s small hints of sadness tinging each of his words. His voice breaks at the word ‘dead’.

      “Ethan took me out for breakfast and I forgot to answer my phone,” Stiles explains, no longer feeling the desire to yell at Derek.

      “He…” Derek trails off and narrows his eyes. “Damn,” He mutters.

      “Why are you at school?” Stiles asks curiously, wanting Derek to admit that he is worried about him.

      “To check on my pack. Also, I’m courting you, therefore I reserve the right to check up on you,” Derek growls and stares out at the hall where he grins to Scott and glares him down simultaneously.

      “So you were worried about me?” Stiles asks enthusiastically and Derek shifts his gaze to glare down Stiles.

      “Let’s go get lunch,” Derek orders and heads towards the door. “I think it’s about time that Ethan knows he has competition,” Derek grins and raises his eyebrows.

      “Wait!” Stiles orders, feeling anxiety creep over him.

      By the time he shouts for Derek to head back into the room, he is already out in the hall talking to Isaac who has returned with two large pizza boxes. Stiles currently wants to crawl under a rock and go invisible. His whole life could be remedied if he had access to an invisibility cloak.

      When Stiles steps out into the hall that feeling increases tenfold. He leaves just in time to see Derek having a stare down with a rather pissed off pair of Alpha Twins. Ethan glances between Derek and Stiles, his fists clenching. Aidan steps in front of his brother and makes sure he doesn’t do anything too drastic in the proximity of many human witnesses.

      Derek grabs Stiles by his shoulder and hauls him straight to the cafeteria.

      “Pack Pizza?” He laughs and Scott snorts in response.

      “Pack discussion time,” Scott urges and lightly punches Stiles on the shoulder.

      Stiles begrudgingly follows the pack into a lunch room as they sit at an empty table. Derek pulls out Stiles’ chair for him and proceeds to call over a lonely Boyd who is sitting at a table all by himself.

      _Great, more witnesses,_ Stiles thinks.

      “McCall, you haven’t turned in your Stock Market Project yet,” Stiles hears and he groans once more. Behind him is Coach Finstock.

      “I’ll leave it on your desk by the end of the day,” Scott responds, in a tone that indicates he is eager for his Coach to go away.

      “If it’s not there, I’m not letting you participate in practice tomorrow,” He warns and suddenly, despite what everyone is hoping, his eyes settle on Derek who is lounging in his chair next to Stiles, acting casual.  

      “Do you go here?” He asks, his face showing some glimmer of recognition.

      “No,” Derek responds, opening up the box and handing Stiles a slice of pizza. Casually, he starts handing out slices to the rest of the pack.

      “Then why are you in the high school cafeteria?” Coach asks, clearly confused.

      “Why _are_ you here Derek?” Another voice asks as Stiles bites into his pizza. As soon as he recognizes the tone he starts choking.

      Derek slaps him on the back once with immense pressure and Stiles coughs violently, turning around to look at Ethan.

      “Oh wow,” Coach holds up his hands in surrender. “I sense some tension that I do not want to get involved in. Practice tomorrow, guys. McCall get your project in. You,” He points at Ethan. “Don’t kill any of my players. Lahey, don’t get accused of any more murders. Stiles,” He looks at the coughing teen in pity. “Just… no more coffee.” He says and walks out of the cafeteria. He screams on the way out. “Greenberg, ice cream is not lunch!”

      Isaac cracks up at the remark.

      “Why is he here?” Aidan asks and Stiles feels awfully surrounded. He doesn’t want this conversation to happen ever, let alone right now.

      “Am I not allowed to have dinner with the guy I’m courting?” Derek asks nonchalantly and Stiles sets his forehead against the table.

      There is a whole lot of silence for a good minute or two.

      “So you started courting McCall?” Ethan asks Derek, his voice more threatening than inquisitive.

      Stiles, despite the fact that his line of sight is currently nothing but table, can hear Scott gag to the side of him.   

      “No, but I started courting Stiles,” Derek turns around and faces Ethan head on.

      Ethan growls and hunches over, his eyes flickering between red and brown.

      “You had no right,” he accuses, his teeth showing.

      “I had more of a right than you,” Derek glares him down. “He’s part of my pack and you did not ask my permission before courting him!”

      “As much as I love people fighting over me-,” Stiles starts before Isaac elbows him in the side. He coil in surprise and glares at the Beta.

      “You want someone like Derek to be courting you?” Ethan looks softly at Stiles, his eyes reflecting pain and betrayal. Stiles just gulps and looks at Scott, wanting help.

      “He wanted an option because you never gave him one,” Scott answers for Stiles and Stiles just nods and looks away, staring intently at his pizza like he was watching for it to crawl away at any moment.

      “So what you want is a competition for Stiles, huh Hale?” Ethan asks, his fists clenched. His werewolf claws are slowly making an appearance. Aidan places a hand on his twin’s shoulder to calm his down but Ethan simply shrugs it off.

      Stiles makes sure no one in the cafeteria is watching them but a few curious glances are watching the scene in confusion. He spots Allison and Lydia watching intently. Embarrassed, he shoves his backpack in front of him to shield his face.

      “Can you even care for someone, Hale?” Ethan goads. “You’ve got to watch out for your pack and their safety. Do you even have time to court Stiles?” He threatens and Derek growls. From under the table, Stiles can see Derek clench his fists as well.

      Derek turns around and stares straight at Ethan again.

      “Never threaten my pack,” He growls in a low, guttural tone. “You touch them and I will rip you to pieces. I have as much time for Stiles as you do. When I win this competition-,” Derek starts but Ethan laughs and holds up a hand, silencing the Alpha.

      “No,” Ethan interrupts. “You won’t win. I’ll prove that I’m the better mate for Stiles. He’s not even your pack. He’s human. You don’t even care for him,” Ethan argues, staring at Stiles. “You _dragged_ him out of the room by the shoulder like he’s a child. You’re only courting him so you don’t let the offense of me not asking for your permission slide without repercussion. Stiles, do you want to be tied to a mate that doesn’t even care for you?” Ethan asks and Stiles turns around and sighs.

      “And you can honestly tell me, with a straight face, that your reason for courting me didn’t include some ulterior motives or orders that will affect my pack?” Stiles responds bitterly, sagging against the table.

      “You think I’m doing this under Deucalion’s orders?” Ethan asks, sounding hurt.

      “It crossed my mind,” Stiles responded, holding his hands up, palm towards the ceiling.

      “I’m not,” Ethan starts and open his arms up, moving towards Stiles as if offering him a hug but Derek stands and places a hand on his chest, pushing him back. “I was going to hug him,” Ethan whispers, anger tainting each enunciated word.

People in the cafeteria are staring at the scene now however, some are oblivious and continue eating as if nothing is happening.

      Derek removes his hand.

      “Not in front of me, you’re not,” Derek growls, hunching over and taking on a demeanor as if he is about to shift.

      “You forget the rules of courting competitions. They mean that you can’t interfere in my advances and I can’t interfere in yours. I’m fairly certain this is interfering,” Ethan whispers, staring intensely at Derek.

      “Touch him in front of me and, rules be damned, I’ll claw your face off,” Derek threatens and Aidan steps between his brother and the other Alpha.

      “Don’t threaten my brother,” Aidan argues. “And while I would approve of you fighting each other right here, and right now… That’s not how a courting competition works. You can both court Stiles. Whoever proves to be a better mate, will win,” Aiden speaks diplomatically and his brother glares him down.

      “It’s not much of a competition,” Ethan mutters.

      “You’re right,” Derek responds. “You’re not even a threat.” He spits back as he turns around, his back to the two Alphas, and goes back to eating.

      Ethan lets out a breath and shakes his head, ending the fight. Aidan pulls him away and he leaves the cafeteria fuming.

      “And so it begins,” Derek starts as soon as Ethan is out of ear shot.

      Stiles lets out an unsteady breath, one he didn’t realize he has been holding, and looks around the table. Scott and Isaac are both staring at him with concerned expressions while Boyd looks entirely too surprised at the exchange. Derek is munching on a slice of pizza like nothing just happened.

      Looking over at the other table, Allison is sending over questioning glances while Lydia is smiling, biting the end of her fork and staring at Stiles with an intrigued grin.

      “Scott, can I call in the best friend card and have you take me behind the school and put me out of my misery?” Stiles begs and simultaneously feels his phone go off.

      From Ethan (12:32:04PM): _I wish you would have told me sooner. I wouldn’t have been angry but I wouldn’t have had to nearly lose it in lunch. I’m still not angry. I’ll prove myself to you. Looking forward to the competition._

      Stiles sighs and Scott shakes his head.

      “We’ll find a solution,” Scott responds, his voice full of pity. Stiles is really hating the pity right now.

      “We have one,” Derek responds, looking over Stiles from head to toe. “I’ll win.”

      Stiles feels the pressure of this competition weighing on him. He feels the panic creeping into his lungs. His heart is beating faster now, faster than it has in a while. He’s fairly certain it will leap out of his chest any moment and fall flat onto the table top in front of the werewolves. The air he’s sucking into his gasping lungs is growing thinner with every inhalation. He tries his best to keep his body under his control but he is failing desperately as loose shaking overtakes his limbs. Stiles rises from his seat as the adrenaline floods his system. He runs from the cafeteria and doesn’t look back.

      Stiles is running down the hallway blind right now, his vision being the least important problem at the moment. His legs are unsteady but they are holding him for the time being. He is begging that his body holds back the tears.

      _Not now,_ he begs his own head. _Don’t cry yet._

      He rushes past people who don’t even turn their heads as he sprints past them. He doesn’t know where he’s going but he is trusting his legs to take him there. His mind meanwhile is grasping at the few remaining strings that are holding him in control of himself. He feels like he’s dying.

      As much as he doesn’t want to cause a scene, he knew he started one as soon as he sprinted out of the lunch room. He has no doubt the werewolves have heard his heart beating faster than normal, his chest heaving in more air than necessary.

      Before he realizes where he is, he feels himself sag against cold white tiles. He huddles in the corner as he takes in the surrounding of the locker room showers. His lungs are calming down and his heart isn’t growing any quieter. He can hear footsteps but he ignores them and tries to talk himself out of the panic attack and the sense of impending doom.

      He closes his eyes, shutting them real tight and brings his knees up to his chest. He hasn’t had it this bad since his mom died.

      Before he knows what is happening, the footsteps stop in front of him and a cold plastic mouthpiece is pressed against his lips. Stiles, out of instinct, wraps his hands around it.

      “Breathe,” the voice orders and Stiles does as he is told. He feels the medicine enter his lungs after the initial ‘click’. He feels his airways open up, his heart slowing gradually. He allows himself to relax and sag against the wall.

      “Thank you,” Stiles responds. “I just needed to get out of there. I hate feeling like a damsel in distress but I never thought I’d end up in that situation, so helpless, y’know?” Stiles responds, turning to his best friend who is looking on with a sad expression.

      Scott sits down next to him against the wall.

      “I know. I’m just returning the favor,” Scott says as he places the inhaler into Stiles’ open palm. “This is a sucky situation, man...” Scott laughs nervously. “I can’t lie on that one but don’t think that your friends aren’t here to get you through it. We won’t let you get tied to someone for the rest of your life.” Scott pats Stiles’ shoulder.

      “Would you mind being tied to Allison for the rest of your life?” Stiles asks and Scott looks at him for a moment.

      “I think the thought of only being with one person for the rest of your life is scary to someone, even if they’re in love. That’s why so many people have commitment problems. I would love to settle down and promise Allison _forever_ but that would freak me out. I’m a teenager, Stiles! I don’t know what my future holds. That’s scary. It’s bad, especially if you’re _not_ in love,” Scott lectures and Stiles can’t help but agree.

      “I’m a mess,” Stiles laughs, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

      “I’m a mess sometimes too. Hell, I’m a teenager werewolf, dating a hunter. Stiles, you’re doing fine,” Scott laughs, trying to cheer Stiles up. “But when I’m a mess, you’re there. When you’re a mess, I’ll be there too.” Scott offers and stands up, shaking off his jeans. He offers a hand out to Stiles. Stiles takes it and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

      “Thank you,” Stiles offers, knowing Scott doesn’t need the gratitude. They’ve both been in this situation before and they’re best friends. It’s an unwritten duty towards each other. “I hope I didn’t freak out the others too bad,” Stiles laughs, coughing weakly.

      “Derek wanted to come but figured his presence wasn’t the best for you at the time. He left. He wants to give you some space to recover. He also apologizes for rushing the confrontation with Ethan. He admits he shouldn’t have done it in school in front of everyone,” Scott explains and Stiles laughs.

      “Yeah, I’d put that on a list of _Bad Ways to Handle a Delicate Situation,”_ Stiles snorts.

      He hears the bell ring throughout the locker room, indicating the end of their lunch period.

      “Seeing as though Derek doesn’t apologize unless he _knows without a doubt_ that he’s wrong, consider yourself special,” Scott shoves Stiles lightly. “Let’s get to class,” He offers and they head out of the locker room.

      As they turn the corner of the showers, Coach Finstock is standing there with a solemn expression on his face.

      “Well at least you boys are fast friends again,” Coach offers and Stiles wonders how long the Coach has been standing there.

      “Yeah,” Stiles laughs and follows Scott quickly out of the locker room.

      “Project by the end of the day McCall!” Coach yells loudly and Scott can’t help but laugh loudly at that.

      When they exit the locker room, Isaac and Boyd are standing outside, offering Stiles and Scott their backpacks. They head to their next class together.

      The rest of the day is uneventful for Stiles. He sits next to Scott in his classes, Lydia the others, and tries to forget the situation. Luckily, Ethan has been giving him some room. Stiles wonders how much Ethan witnessed and if he is even aware of the panic attack.

      From Derek (2:34:40PM): _I will pick you guys up from school. I am staying in town anyway._

      Stiles shows the text to Isaac, Scott and Boyd who simply flash him a thumbs-up and try not to get caught talking by the teacher.

      Come the end of the period, the pack head out after Scott rushes to turn in his project, making a bee-line to the car where a silent Derek waits in his Camero.

      They all climb in, not saying anything.

      “I want you to stay out of the woods tonight,” Derek warns.

      “Why?” Scott questions, feeling like he’s out of the loop on something.

      “A few people have gone missing and they’re not sure whose doing it. The cops and the hunters are searching the woods tonight and I got words from the Argents that if they find a wolf in the woods, they’ll not hesitate to shoot,” Derek warns.

      “Noted,” Isaac responds, taking the threat warily.

      “Any leads?” Stiles ask, turning full cop on Derek.

      “No bodies, no evidence,” He responds dryly.

      “How do they know it is a murder?” Stiles asks, wanting to know some details.

      “You’re not looking into this, Stiles. Leave it to the cops. Unless we determine its wolf related, you guys stay out of it. It’s bad enough worrying about the Alpha Pack. We don’t need to worry about a murderer catching onto our trails,” Derek warns, staring right at Stiles as they pull up to a red light.

      “Okay,” Stiles holds his hands up in defeat.

      Derek drops three of them off at Scott’s house and takes Boyd back to his own apartment.

      “I mean it guys, out of the woods. Don’t make me haul you out of there tonight,” Derek warns and the three teenagers nod solemnly.

      “Got it,” Stiles smiles and heads into Scott’s house.

      As soon as they close the door, however, the boys are huddled in the living room discussing theories.

      “Do you think it’s the Druid?” Scott asks skeptically.

      “No, we would have found the bodies. Whoever the druid is, he wasn’t trying to hide his/her killings,” Stiles offers.

      “The Alpha Pack?” Isaac offers his own theory.

      “No,” Scott counters. “If they are the ones killing, they are giving the hunters reason to come and kill them. They want to lay low.”

      “Random psychotic human?” Stiles offers.

      “That’s a good possibility,” Scott answers. “But let’s stay out of the woods tonight.”

      The two teenagers nod and flip on the TV, trying to forget about the possibility of a new murderer in Beacon Hills. Voted one of the safest towns, its reputation is currently on a steady decline ever since Peter Hale rose from his asylum room and tormented Scott. Now the bodies were piling up in the dozens. Poor random citizens.

      Stiles’ father calls him to alert him that he won’t be home for dinner as he will be heading a search party for any bodies in the Preserve tonight. Stiles wishes him luck and tells him to be safe. He feels a little better knowing the Argents and some other local hunters will be on werewolf patrol at the same time.

      Luckily, Mrs. McCall, on the end of her shift comes home and tells them she has more than enough spots at the table to feed three hungry teenage boys. She invited Stiles specifically, knowing Sheriff Stilinski called in to check on his son’s whereabouts. She’s well aware his house will be empty tonight.

      “You better finish that chicken, Stiles,” She warns over the dinner table. “Or you won’t get any pie for dessert.”

      Stiles quickly scarfs down the chicken with a “Yes, Ma’am.”

Isaac keeps his head down during dinner and rushes to help Mrs. McCall with dishes and cleaning up.

      “Isaac, go sit with your friends. I’ve got the dishes,” She smiles.

      “No really, I insist. You’ve been nice enough to allow me to stay here with Scott and to offer me meals and showers. I can help you with chores,” He smiles and she holds her hands up as he takes over scrubbing the dirty pans.

      “Oh, it’s not a problem taking you in Isaac. You’ve got more manners than this monster over here,” She ruffles Scott’s head who replies with an indignant ‘Hey!’. “And I like a full house,” She smiles before heading upstairs.

      Stiles informs the others that he will be heading back to his house to grab some of his textbooks so they can all work on a physics project. He grabs his backpack and rushes back to his house.

      As soon as he sets foot in the door however, his phone goes off. He looks down at it, curious to see what Scott wants of him so soon after leaving.

      From Unknown (7:41:56PM): _The bodies are in the forest by the old outlet of the bike path. You should see what he’s capable of._

      Stiles reads the text message and drops his phone almost instantly, hearing it clatter to the ground and bounce roughly on the wooden floor. He instantly rushes down to pick it up and re-reads the text message, trying to confirm what he thought he read. Yes, he read it right. It is a clue!

      The murderer has his phone number! He throws his backpack to the ground and instantly starts digging around for his pocket knife. Once he feels it in the cabinet drawer, he feels a little safer. The timing is what scares him the most. He received it as soon as he was alone.

      He has this overwhelming desire to check the validity of the tip. He wants to venture into the woods and see if the bodies are really there.

      But Derek warned him not to.

      His mind starts working away at the situation. No, Derek told his pack to not go in the woods because the hunter would shoot any wolf they see. He’s not a wolf. They won’t shoot him. Well, he thinks, that rules out bringing Scott or Isaac.

      Stiles stands in his living room and weighs his choices.

      He could pass the message on to his father but that would raise too many questions and an investigation as to how Stiles knows the murderer. Undoubtedly, that would lead back to the pack and some knowledge of the existence of werewolves in Beacon Hills. No, that wouldn’t work.

      He could pass the message along to Derek but Derek told him he wants no part of this. He won’t investigate into the tip but will probably quarantine Stiles and place him under observation since the murderer so clearly knows of him.

      He can’t even tip off the police station since they all know his phone number and will refuse to accept his information on that grounds that most of it is illegally acquired.

      Stiles makes up his mind. He withdraws a map and a marker. He marks down the outlet of the old bike trail in the preserve, and writes “So I may have received a tip on the location of the bodies and you know my good ol’ curiosity.” He knows the area well. The edge of the bike path is perpendicular with the spot Derek to him to last night, when he started courting him.  

      Stiles leaves the map on the table right outside his door just in case he doesn’t come back.

      He takes the precaution of even packing a few things. He grabs flashlights and replacement batteries, shoves the pocket knife into his backpack, along with an additional map and slips a small pouch into his back pocket.

      Stiles already knows he is going to regret this decision but he has made up his mind. He can’t let the message stand alone.

      Stiles drives over and parks his Jeep outside of the Preserve, electing to hike up the bike trail and straight to the outlet in the middle of the woods. He keeps his knife and flashlight in his hands.

      The sun is setting now and the trees are concealing any of the remaining sunlight, making the woods appear unnaturally dark. Some of the nocturnal insects are emerging from their slumbers and are chirping and calling out among the leaves. The bike path is worn down from years of athletes riding through for endurance training. It cuts and winds through the forest like an animal path, narrow enough to fit one bike on its dirt floor and not high enough to avoid all the branches overhead.

      Stiles has to duck occasionally to miss a stray tall branch but slowly he makes his way into the center of the woods. He keeps his senses on full alert, scanning into the depths of the tree with every sense and straining his ears to pick up anything unnatural.

      He checks his phone for the current time, seeing that twenty minutes has passed since he left his house on this expedition and Scott will probably be looking for him at his house. That’s his fail-safe. He gave himself enough time to look for the bodies before a rescue party comes. He has no service in the middle of the Preserve though, his phone becoming nothing more than an overly expensive watch.

      Stiles knows he is coming close to the outlet of the path, as some of the sun is filtering through the leaves now, as the foliage is thinning out as it gives way to a field in the middle of the preserve. The field is a common resting place for deer and other larger mammals that live on the Preserve.

      Stiles can see the turn of the path approaching, indicating where the walkway makes a quick U-turn and heads out of the woods. Stiles feels the tension growing in his chest as he walks up carefully. He slows his steps so he can scan everything with much more attention to detail. He can’t hear or see anything unusual.

      Stiles enters the field slowly, not seeing anything at first.

      There is nothing among the tall grass, no overwhelming stench of rotting flesh or the tiny bit of evidence that would give away the presence of a human body. Stiles will never admit that he is a bit disappointed that the text tip he got was a lie. It was probably some punk kid from school, knowing he is the Sheriff’s kid, running him around in circles to mess with him as they know he has enough curiosity to investigate.

      He sighs and readjusts his backpack before turning around and heading back on the bike path.

      A glimmer of idea flies across his mind for a brief moment.

      Stiles stops mid-step and lets his impulses guide him.

      He heads to the pond on instinct and starts looking around for any evidence. He turns around and ends up standing right across the pond from where he and Derek were having dinner yesterday.

      Deep in the water reeds, he sees something peculiar. There, next to the long green stalks, are a bunching of bright orange flowers, a mass of them in fact. Stiles trudges over, and notices the flowers as California poppies, all picked fresh and covering something. He pushes a bunch of them aside and falls back as he realizes what is underneath.

      There, under the bright orange petals, is a naked female body, bloodied with muddy blue eyes still wide-open. Every inch is plastic wrapped, the girl’s mouth wide open in horror. He notices the wound patterns as bite marks. Stiles stumbles back and drops the poppies he is holding. He scans the field and notices four other hills of poppies. He runs over quickly and pushes the flower aside, revealing one more woman and three dead men, all with the same wound patterns.

      Stiles gags as he realizes that the bodies have been there for a while. A werewolf probably had them as a chew toy. Stiles stumbles to the edge of the shore and heaves his stomach contents into the crystal clear liquid of the pond, not stopping until his entire dinner is in front of him, floating on the surface of the water.

      He and Derek ate dinner here yesterday.

      As he was staring in front of the pond, marveling at the sight and sounds of the meadow, there were dead bodies directly ahead of him, rotting away while he ate his meal and started courting Derek.

      He dry heaves more at the realization, tears stinging his eyes as nothing but stomach acid comes up.

      The murderer knows him because he saw Stiles and Derek here yesterday, eating dinner and chatting merrily while the murderer left his dead victims under the offerings of poppies. He couldn’t smell anything because of the plastic wrapping and flowers.

      Stiles stands up and moves to turn his head but something hard wraps around his neck holding him still, choking him. Stiles tries to struggle but the grasp is exceedingly strong. He can’t haul any air into his lungs.

      _See what he can do,_ the message read.

      The victims had werewolf bites. He’s being attacked.

      Stiles struggles and gasps, seeing black dots on the edge of his vision. He’s going to lose consciousness soon.

      In a stumbling motion, Stiles dead-weights and falls to the ground as the attacker is surprised by the sudden weight change. Stiles uses this opportunity to grab his pocket knife. He shoves the blade into the pouch in his back pocket and thrusts his coated knife backwards, feeling relief as he hears a groan and hiss of pain. The hold on his neck relinquishes and Stiles hauls precious oxygen into his lungs. With as much energy as he can muster, Stiles screams and takes off, running as fast as his legs can carry him.

      He doesn’t look back. He stumbles around the bodies. His eyes widen in horror as he hears a low guttural growl behind him, the sound of someone recovering and standing up.

      Stiles chances one small look back but all he sees leaping towards him are two burning orbs of bright red. Eyes coming straight for him. Stiles lunges forward with his knife and holds his breath, praying for it to land.

 

      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I know you all hate me for this cliffhanger but it's absolutely necessary, I promise. I'll get a chapter up soon anyway so you're not hanging by your fingertips on the edge for so long.
> 
> So who do you think sent the text? Who do you think is the murderer? Who's attacking Stiles? 
> 
> You'll find out and it won't be what you expected.
> 
> Also: I've been getting a lot of comments saying "I don't want Ethan and Stiles to be together..." and "I won't read if this is Ethan/Stiles." Guys.. please be civil with me. I tagged it as (one-sided) for a reason. This IS endgame Sterek. It's not endgame Ethan/Stiles. Ethan is here to balance against Derek, to offer friction. I'm making Derek work for this relationship. I can't spoil stuff without spoiling too much.
> 
> Geez guys, you make me anxious with the "Only Sterek" comments. I'm working an angle here. 
> 
> But bear with me, Sterek shippers like me will have their moments. 
> 
> That being said, there will be Ethan/Stiles moments that you need to put up with.  
> At times in the future, it may seem like this is Ethan/Stiles centeric but it's not. Don't worry. It's all part of the plot so bear with me lovely readers and reviewers. 
> 
> (Pay attention to the title of this chapter. It's a small hint as to where this is going) 
> 
> Tell me your theories. I'd love to know your thoughts.


	5. We've got ourselves a serial killer. Love those—there's always something to look forward to.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I last left you with Stiles in a fight with a werewolf. The fight scene ensues and Stiles is seriously injured. He is taken away from the scene and lays in the balance between life and death. The mystery unravels. Who sent the text message? 
> 
> Is there more than meets the eye than an Alpha out to kill Stiles for stumbling upon his bodies?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time to update. It's unusual for me to go more than a few days without updating but I couldn't get this chapter right. It ended up being multiple pages long and I cut nearly half of them off and started it again. 
> 
> This chapter is heavily pack centered, with Stiles and some hurt/comfort. 
> 
> There ARE however graphic scenes of violence, so if you don't want to read this... um.... Yeah I have no suggestions here. Graphic violence scenes!

                  Stiles can feel the resistance against his knife as soon as his attack lands. That’s all he can base his accuracy on though, as his eyes are squeezed shut tightly, allowing him to ignore the inevitable gore and carnage in front of him.

                  There is that same growl from in front of him again and Stiles’ eyes shoot open as the handle of the knife is suddenly jerked away. Stiles’ eyes fall upon the sight of a muscular chest heaving in and out quickly, the knife still jammed in the skin, penetrating deeply into the muscle layers. A clawed hand reaches down with an audible hiss and, with a large amount of effort, manages to withdraw the blade from its body. Stiles freezes in his spot, visibly disgusted by the creature’s wound. Blood is gushing out and, even on a werewolf, the wound shows no sign of healing. Stiles thanks his precaution of dipping his knife into a pouch of wolfsbane dust.

                Stiles can see the knees of the creature weakening, causing him to slump forward to the ground, writhing in pain.

                Stiles sneaks a glimpse upwards, seeing the transformed face of an Alpha he cannot identify. When the Alpha starts rising again, growling and looking ready to pounce, eyes focused right on Stiles’ throat. His self-preservation streak get into his blood and his eyes widen as he turns full force- darting into the woods.

                There’s no possible way he can outrun an Alpha werewolf. Stiles knows this but he’ll be damned if he dies without even trying. He will go down with his hands around the Alpha’s throat, shoving wolfsbane dust into his mouth, knowing it only has a small chance of working and only well after he’s already dead.

                His legs are propelling him forward but he can hear the injured Alpha closing the distance between them. Stiles grabs the pouch of ash and prepares to launch an attack. He turns around quickly, kneels, digging his hands in the pouch and grabs a handful of ash. He swallows the lump in his throat as he sees the pissed off Alpha barreling towards him, full speed, wolfed out with full intent to kill.

                Stiles concentrates intently and as soon as the Alpha growls, readying himself to close the final foot, Stiles whips his handful of dust straight into the werewolf’s mouth. The creatures slows slightly and begins to choke, lashing out with its claw. He strikes Stiles across the face on the right side, only just narrowly avoiding his eye.

                The wound is not too deep but, as with all facial wounds, it starts bleeding profusely, pooling near Stiles’ eye socket, obscuring his vision.

                The werewolf starts violently choking, but is still able to move. He pounces on Stiles and growls through wheezes. Stiles prepares himself for the pain and feels another set of claws tear open his shirt and graze his abdomen. He yells, hoping someone is close enough to save him. It’s his last irrational hope for survival.

                Stiles feels the claws on his legs as the wolf holds him down. He cries out in pain and looks up as the werewolf’s eyes shift from red, back to brown and back again. He looks ready to bite down, jaw wide open wide displaying his razor sharp teeth. Stiles closes his eyes, crying mentally at the thought of dying, being covered in plastic wrap and hidden beneath poppies. He doesn’t want anyone to find him that way, especially his father.      

                Before the bite comes, however, the weight on his chest lightens and the claws digging into his legs are ripped away. He screams at they are removed, can feel the warm blood trickle and ooze down his leg. Stiles starts crawling backward but a pair of arms wrap around his torso and haul him backwards. He fights with all of his strength and starts flailing, vocally yelling out.

                “Stiles,” the voice orders and Stiles slumps backwards, opening his eyes. “Stiles, it’s Scott. Calm down, I’ve got you,” he orders. Stiles turns to face Scott.

                “An Alpha,” he yells to Scott. “We’ve got to get out of here,” Stiles is desperate. He’s accepted dying. He hasn’t accepted watching Scott sacrifice himself and die right in front of him.

                “Calm down,” Scott orders and Stiles stares at him. Blood is dripping all over his torn clothing and is soaking his pant legs quickly. Stiles hears more than one growl from behind him and he quickly turns around to see Derek, fully shifted and engaging in battle with the mysterious Alpha. Isaac and Boyd are at his side, moving in on the singular werewolf.

                His attention is called away as Scott removes his shirt and rips the fabric in half, tying the pieces around the deep wounds on his legs. Stiles hisses in pain.

                “Hang on, I’ve got to stop the bleeding,” Scott whispers, staring hopefully over at Derek. “Stiles, did he bite you?” Scott asks, his voice laced with terror.

                Stiles’ attention is diverted once again as he is quickly grabbed from behind and lifted upwards. He yells indignantly, pleading for Scott to help him.

                “Shut it kid. Just because you’re bleeding doesn’t give you permission to start whining,” He hears from beneath him. Stiles turns his head and notices he is currently in the grasp of Peter Hale. “Alpha’s orders, we’re getting out of here,” Peter says, looking right at Scott.  Scott’s eyes narrowed before they slowly surveyed the fight scene ahead. “Hurry up before he bleeds all over my jacket,” Peter orders and turns around, ready to sprint away. 

                As he turns, Stiles gets a last minute glimpse of the battle field. Derek is standing in front of Isaac and Boyd, deflecting most of the blows. The Alpha is slowed down, hacking his lungs out as blood is coming up from his lungs. He tries to get back over to Stiles but Derek places his body in front of his path, indicating he isn’t going to let the werewolf pass. Derek looks over at Stiles, making eye contact for a moment before his eyes deepen to a darker red. He lets out a primal yell and swipes at the Alpha, covering Boyd who already has a gash torn out of his forearm. Isaac looks relatively uninjured except for a few scratches and ducks behind the Alpha, jumping on his back and pulling him down to the dirt.

                “There’s bodies buried here!” Stiles shouts, hissing as Peter takes off and the gashes on his chest rub against the fabric of Peter’s jacket. Peter readjusts his grip.

                “We’ll deal with it later,” Scott yells, following closely alongside Peter. Stiles groans and squints his eyes shut, trying not to concentrate on his wounds and the amount of blood he is losing.

                He wants to be out on the battle-field helping but he knows he is only a liability at the moment; knows that he is no good to anyone if he gets bit or bleeds out and dies. 

                “If you stain my jacket, you owe me a new one,” Peter growls. “So you better not die before you make that purchase.”

                Scott looks over often as they are running, checking on Stiles and trying to assess the extent of his wounds.

                “Did you get bit?” Scott repeats, eager to have an answer to the question.

                “Great, another emotional teenager added to our pack,” Peter groans.

                “I don’t think so,” Stiles responds, unsure if the pain from the clawing ever switched into pain from biting.

                It’s a short trip until they are back at the old Hale house and Peter and Scott dip down into the remains of the building, setting Stiles down on the floor of the hallway. Scott rips off the remains of his tattered shirt to assess his wounds.

                “Hey,” Stiles protests weakly, trying to swat away Scott’s inspecting hands.

                “Oh shut up, I’ll get you another one,” Scott replies, and uses the fabric as bandages, ripping the shirt into strips and tying them around the claw marks on Stiles’ chest, trying to staunch the blood flow. Meanwhile, Peter is rummaging around and comes up with a towel, bending down to wipe some of the blood flow off of Stiles’ face.

                “Close your eyes,” The ex-Alpha mutters and Stiles does as he is told. He feels pressure right above his eye. He can only imagine what he looks like at the moment. “Deal with his leg wounds,” Peter orders. “Those are the worst wounds. Damn humans and their lack of healing abilities,” He complains.

                Scott takes another towel and applies pressure to his legs, stopping the blood flow from the deep claw wounds on his thighs.

                “Will Derek and Isa-“ he starts but is cut off.

                “They’ll be fine. Derek’s an Alpha with his pack. He can stand his own ground, despite how untrained his betas are,” Peter remarks, snorting at Stiles’ unwarranted worry.

                “Any bite wounds?” Scott asks Peter. Stiles feels someone patting down his abdomen and lifting his head and legs up, assessing for injuries.

                “No. You’re human friend is going to remain fragile,” Peter remarks and even though his eye is closed with a towel pressed against his face, he can practically _hear_ the eye-roll in his voice.

                Stiles is feeling a little weaker, finally realizing the extent of his blood loss. He rolls his head over and opens his good eye, seeing a pool of red liquid around his chest, dripping onto the floor. He feels nauseous and starts gagging.  

                “No throwing up. We have to deal with enough of your body fluids already,” Peter remarks, putting a hand on Stiles’ head and turning it up so he’s facing the ceiling again.

                “We should get a Doctor,” Scott replies frantically and Stiles is a little worried if he is going to make it through this. Well, at least his friends don’t have to find him dead beneath plastic wrap and flowers.

                “Do you want to explain why he has giant claw marks all over him?” Peter replies, yelling at his best-friend.

                “I know someone,” Scott replies. “He won’t ask questions.”         

                Peter groans and Stiles can feel hands shift, Peter now being the one to apply pressure to his legs. He wraps the towel around his chest first and bundles the bandages against his head.

                “Call him,” Peter orders and Stiles can hear footsteps as Scott retreats outside to make a phone call.

                When Scott is out of earshot, Peter sighs.

                “These don’t look good,” he remarks. “Should have let me turn you when I had offered earlier.”

                Stiles open his eye again and stares at the Alpha. Where he is expecting to see smugness and sarcasm, all he sees is worry.

                “Well, too late now,” Stiles groans as Peter squeezes his leg, trying to seal off the wound.

                “Not if Derek returns on time,” Peter comments and Stiles can feel his chest tighten up with panic. He doesn’t want to be turned. Not under these circumstances.

                “No,” Stiles weakly reaches out and grabs Peter’s arm, practically _begging_ him.

                “Even if the chances of you surviving this are slim?” Peter questions, looking at Stiles with a raised eyebrow.

                “I…” Stiles stops. “Only if I’m definitely going to die,” He looks at Peter. “Like, less than 10%, Stiles-give-your-last-words-now definite.” Stiles coughs and reels at the pain in his chest.

                “Then the transformation might not work,” Peter half-grins.

                Stiles sighs and desperately wants to fall asleep and wake up again when he’s not in pain. He feels his eyes closing slightly, drooping downward.

                Peter nudges him awake and Stiles jumps, a little startled.

                “Stay awake,” Peter orders.

                “Leave the decision up to Derek,” Stiles mumbles, feeling exponentially weaker as time passes.

                “Deaton is on his way,” Scott runs back in, yelling. It does wonders at keeping Stiles awake.

                “Hang on, Stiles,” Scott smiles, looking directly over Stiles so he can see his friend’s face.

                Stiles nods.

                “Talk to me,” Stiles orders and Scott looks at him warily.

                “What?”

                “Talk to me or I’m going to fall asleep and there’s no guarantee that I’ll wake up,” Stiles yells, regretting the decision almost immediately as the wounds on his chest pull at the edges.

                “You better not fall asleep,” Scott yells back, reapplying pressure to his chest. Stiles feels wonderfully numb, only feeling the slide of the fabric against his skin. “So, this is a wonderful situation, huh?” Scott laughs.

                “So wonderful,” Stiles mumbles, not finding the conversation intriguing enough to stay awake.

                “Stiles?” Scott asks. “Stiles!” He shakes him and Stiles opens up his eye wide. This process continues for a few minutes. Stiles is fighting to stay awake while Peter and Scott keep shoving him to keep his eyes open.

                The door opens and Stiles flinches. Scott’s eyes turn a bright yellow and Peter, out of instinct, places himself in front of Stiles.

                “Where is he?” He hears and Stiles hopes it is Derek. He knows from the voice that’s it not though.

                “Over here,” Scott orders, rushing him over. Deaton leans into his field of vision and sets a medical kit down on the ground.

                “How did this happen?” Deaton asks and Peter groans, glaring at Scott.

                “An Alpha attacked Stiles when he stupidly wandered into the woods and stumbled over some bodies,” Scott deduces and Stiles just nods.

                “Stiles?” Deaton leans into Stiles’ view. “Hang on for a minute. I need to look at your wounds.” Stiles just nods.

                “His face wound is not too deep. Shouldn’t scar and it’s done bleeding,” Deaton assesses. “He’s got some deep scratches on his arms, some deep wounds on his chest that will need some stitches and bandages and…” Deaton stares down at his legs. “Sorry about this Stiles.”

                Stiles feels something metallic against his legs and fabric being lifted off carefully. He realizes that his pants have literally been cut off.

                “These are deep,” Deaton looks down and prods at the wound, eliciting a cry of pain from Stiles. “Scott, grab my kit,” He orders and Scott complies, lifting his hands off of Stiles to hand the kit over. Deaton rummages through it and grabs something out of it, evading the Stiles’ vision.

                Before Deaton can do anything, the door opens and Stiles can hear several pairs of feet entering the house. He can only assume it is the pack returning.

                Isaac rushes to Scott’s side and looks down at Stiles’ with immense sadness. Boyd lingers in the background, hovering in and out of Stiles’ one-eyed field of vision. Derek rushes over and kneels next to Peter, looking over Stiles with scanning eyes.

                Stiles really wishes he wasn’t bleeding out and had pants on this occasion.

                “Did he get bit?” Derek asks, staring at Deaton and Scott.

                “No,” Scott replies back and Derek sighs with relief.

                “Stiles, I need to stitch up these wounds. You need to hang on for a few minutes,” Deaton orders and Stiles closes his eyes, not wanting to deal with more pain. The doctor swabs down the wound with some strong smelling anti-septic.

                “How’s the other Alpha?” Stiles asks, trying to take his mind off of the impending pain. He feels the needle pierce his leg and he flinches. Peter and Scott move down to hold his legs down so he can’t move. He bites his lip to contain himself from crying out. He feels the needle sew in and out of the wound, pulling it shut.

                “He got away. We chased him into the woods a few miles but his scent disappeared. I don’t know how but he’s on the run,” Derek says coldly. Stiles opens up his eyes and looks at Derek. The Alpha is staring down at him with concern and small glimpses of fear. Stiles hisses as the needle moves and Derek moves a hand down and grips Stiles’ hand, squeezing it.  

                “Don’t bite yourself,” Derek orders as Stiles draws blood from lip from biting down so hard. Instead Stiles nods and squeezes at Derek’s hand, gripping tighter when he feels the needle. One leg is finished and wrapped up in thick gauze and Deaton moves to the other.

                “Is he going to come back?” Stiles whines.

                “Not if I have anything to do about it,” Derek growls.

                Stiles feels himself drifting off again and Derek uses his free hand to tap the side of his face, jolting him awake.

                “Stay awake,” He orders again and Stiles nods. Derek looks helplessly at Deaton.

                “Don’t jump to that conclusion yet,” Deaton responds, calmly. “Despite the blood loss, he has a good chance of making it through this.”

                Derek looks at the wounds and Stiles’ brain wraps itself around the decision that Derek is debating. _He’s wondering if he should turn Stiles to save him._

                “I’m not going to turn him unless I have to,” Derek looks at Scott who only nods, swallowing in fear.

                “Isn’t this my decision?” Stiles asks weakly.

                “No,” Derek remarks and Stiles accepts this decision and Stiles sighs as the needle stops. His second leg is wrapped up and propped up, above his heart.

                “I won’t tolerate you turning him in front of me for any other reason,” Deaton warns as he restrings a new needle. Scott looks at the vet and back to his pack.

                Deaton shifts over, moving Peter out of the way and focusing on his chest.

                “Just a few more stitches,” He remarks and Stiles groans, looking at Derek for help. Derek remains unmoved.

                “Stiles,” Scott says and Stiles moves his head over to the other side so he can glimpse at him from his one eye that’s not wrapped up. “Don’t die,” Scott begs and Stiles nods.

                “I’ll try not to,” Stiles smiles and he feels Derek squeeze his hand.

                “Stiles,” Derek calls and Stiles turns his head over once again. Derek reaches down to reposition the bandage against his face. “If you even look like you’re dying, I’m going to bite you,” Derek states but it’s more of a request for permission.

                “Biting? After only the first date?” Stiles laughs.

                Deaton glances between the two but doesn’t say anything and stitches some of the deepest portions of his chest wounds. Stiles feels his eyes closing again and can’t fight it this time. He just feels so weak. He can feel Derek squeezing his hand and tapping his face, and Scott and Isaac calling him out in desperation but he falls into the welcoming arms of the dark. Lightly, he feels two fingers against his neck before everything is lights out.

                Everything turns into a blur of mixed scenes between half-conscious awakenings. The first time, he sees Derek standing over him, eyes deep-red and a hand turning his face towards the ground, exposing his neck and shoulder.

                The next awakening, Deaton is pulling off his blood-stained gloves and packing up his med-kit. There’s a needle full of some foreign liquid in his arm.

After that, he awakens as he is a few feet off the ground, pressed against Derek’s chest as he is carried to the couch. The next time is for only a few seconds and he looks down at himself as sees his legs propped up and several jackets covering his body. He is embarrassingly aware of the fact that his shirts are gone as well as his pants, leaving him down to only his boxers. He shivers and pulls a leather jacket closer around him. His body seems light and pain-free. He’s not looking forward to this feeling fading.

                He awakens several times after that and only catches various conversations with specific fragments such as: “turn him”, “explain this”, “car accident”, “Sheriff,” and “recovery.” Somewhere between the awakenings, the jackets have been removed and a thick blanket has taken their place, tucked in around him. He feels so cold.

                He lets himself sleep for a while.

                The next time he awakens, he is incredibly disorientated at the change of surroundings. Instead of the broken down remains of the Hale house, crumbling at the walls, he is met by the bleach white, retina burning sterility of a hospital room. There is an IV in his arm and he’s hooked up to several beeping machines, all yelling at him at once. He looks over and his father is asleep in the chair next to him, not letting go of his hand as a worried expression is etched into his sleeping facial features. Stiles still feels tired and, despite the panic of his father being next to him, decides to stay asleep a little longer.

                Yet again, it’s an even longer amount of time before he can remain conscious for an extended point of time.

                “Stiles,” he hears a voice as his eyelids flutter open. Stiles groans and turns his head, trying to fall back asleep. “Stiles,” the voice orders.

                Stiles opens his eyes and looks at his father. The Sheriff reaches down and places a hand on the top of Stiles’ head.

                “How are you feeling?” He asks and Stiles blinks several times before looking around.

                “How did I get here?” Stiles asks, remembering falling asleep while bleeding out on the floor of the Hale house.

                “Your friends brought you in after the car accident. You were T-boned on your way back from the store. You got cut up real bad. Lucky for you, Dr. Deaton was on scene and managed to stitch and bandage you up in time. Are you feeling okay?” His father asks, concern dripping from his voice. Stiles groans and looks down at himself, taking in the white bandages. He reaches up and feels the gash on his face. “You got cut by flying glass,” His father remarks and pulls Stiles’ hands away from his face.

                “I’m tired and I hate hospitals,” Stiles mumbles.

                “You lost a lot of blood,” His father explains and Stiles nods. Whatever drugs are in his body are making his mind run wild.

                “Dad,” he mumbles and blinks blankly at the walls. “I have practice tomorrow,” he worries incoherently.

                “You have practice today. You’ve been out all night and well into the morning. It’s 5am now. You can call your coach at a decent morning,” His father speaks softly and runs a hand over the top of Stiles’ head before withdrawing it and gripping his hand. “I was worried. You’re pretty injured.” His father smiles and looks like he is trying to hold back tears. Nothing would tear his father up like losing his wife and then losing his only child.

                “I’m sorry for worrying you,” Stiles apologizes and glares at the IV in his arm.

                “It’s okay,” His father pats his hand. “Just get better soon.”

                “Where’s Scott?” Stiles worries. The Alpha that had attacked him is still on the loose running around. There’s no way of telling who his next victim may be. Some poor unfortunate soul may be the next person to end up under plastic wrap and poppies.  

                “He went home to shower. He said he will be back real soon,” His father smiles. “Isaac is okay too. They’ve both got a few cuts and bruises but they’ll heal.”

                Stiles wants to try to work out how the others came up with a perfect excuse for covering up his injuries and the suspicious looking-wound on his face but his mind is failing to work. Everything is fuzzy. They obviously went with a car accident as the excuse and are using their slower healing Alpha wounds as an alibi but damn it, Stiles is so tired.

                “Sleep if you want to,” His father smiles. “Either I or Scott will be here when you wake up.” Stiles nods and yawns, moving his head into the pillow to get comfortable. He falls into blissful slumber.

                The sun is leaking out the next time he awakens, and when he looks around he realizes part of the pack is in his room.

                Scott is sitting right beside him and Isaac is over in the other half of the room, sitting on a visitor’s chair.

                “Car accident?” Stiles mumbles.

                “Best sounding explanation at the time,” Scott asks. “Deaton and my mom covered for us. They think you got cut up really bad by glass and metal not like, claws,” Scott laughs and stands up, looking at Stiles. “How are you feeling?”

                “Hm,” Stiles starts, suddenly noticing Derek leaning in the corner, arms crossed over his leather jacket, a serious expression taking over his face. “Like I got into a fight with an Alpha.”

                “Because you did,” Scott smiles sadly, looking down at his best friend who is currently wrapped up in bandages and with an IV in his arm. Stiles is taking an inventory of his wounds and he raises a hand to feel at the gashes across his face. The claw marks run from the center of his forehead, over his eyebrow, narrowly avoiding his eye and ending at the middle of his right ear.  He is really praying that they won’t scar.

                “Did anyone find the Alpha yet?” Stiles asks, unsure of how he can go about his life knowing an Alpha werewolf hell bent on attacking him is out on the loose, possibly lurking behind his every turn.

                “No,” Isaac shakes his head. “We lost all scent of him. If he heads back this way though, we might be able to find him.”

                “We _will_ find him,” Derek growls in correction.

                “Do the cops know about the bodies?” Stiles asks, wanting to tip his Dad off with his knowledge of the body dumping spot. As much as he doesn’t want the cops, and his father, going after an Alpha Werewolf, he will not be able to sleep at night with the knowledge that the victims are still lying there, decaying. Their faces are still engrained in his mind, their jaws slack and their eyes open to reveal cold, expressionless orbs.

                “The Argents stumbled upon the trail and unearthed the bodies after we tipped them off. They are also on alert for the presence of an additional Alpha,” Scott explains, staring at Stiles sympathetically.

                “That’s what I get for stumbling upon an Alpha’s burial ground,” Stiles half-yawns, regretting his decision to ever enter the woods.

                “Oh, I’m glad you brought that up,” Derek sits up, pushing himself away from the wall and looking down at Stiles. “It’s funny because earlier that day I believe I mentioned something about none of you going into the woods. While you do break rules a lot, what drove you into the forest despite all the alarms in your head going off warning you that it was a stupid and reckless idea?” Derek asks, his voice growing louder at the end. Stiles shirks back into the bed, trying to lose himself in the covers.

                Stiles doesn’t answer, not sure of how to explain the text message without making himself seem exactly what Derek labelled him as, stupid and reckless.

                “Also, that map. You knew the exact location of the bodies and you mentioned something about a tip off?” Scott asks and Stiles mentally hits himself in the face for forgetting to acknowledge that he left a back-up plan with information about the text message at his house for the pack to find.

                “I may…” Stiles starts, looking guilty. “Have received a text message telling me to go into the woods.” He scratches the back of his head.

                Derek sighs and rushes over to Stiles’ bedside table, nicking his phone before Stiles can even assess the situation. He fiddles with the screen for a moment before growling and handing it to Scott. Scott taps a few buttons before handing it back to Derek.

                “Hey,” Stiles protests at his violation of privacy.

                Derek runs through the messages in his phone before reading an independent message out loud.

                “ _The bodies are in the forest by the old outlet of the bike path. You should see what he’s capable of,”_ Derek reads. “That’s not suspicious at all. That doesn’t scream, follow me into the forest to your death,” Derek glares at Stiles.

                “I was curious! I left a back-up plan,” Stiles defends himself.

                Derek growls and glares down the teen.

                “Your curiosity nearly got you killed and your back-up plan was us. If we didn’t show up when we did he would’ve had you in shreds at his feet or you would be back at the den, sprouting fur and fangs,” Derek argues, throwing the phone at Stiles, letting it land on the white covers over his legs.

                “Yeah and which one would you have preferred?” Stiles replies angrily, not feeling like being blamed when he is clearly in a lot of pain.

                “Stiles,” Scott urges but Stiles doesn’t feel like keeping his mouth shut right now. He’s had a rough day and he needs to vent.

                “If I had died this courting thing would have been fixed,” Stiles yells back, throwing the insult directly at Derek.

                “So you turn suicidal and run into a homicidal Alpha?” Derek yells back. “You’re reckless. If you want to kill yourself, there’s easier ways to do it then to drag us all on a manhunt, worrying that you are dead and forcing us to find you bleeding with a werewolf after you.”

                Stiles glares down the fuming werewolf and mentally stands his ground.

                “I’ll think about that the next time,” Stiles responds bitterly. Derek looks absolutely pissed now and he grabs at his hair before turning his back on Stiles and walking into the hallway.

                “Stiles, you shouldn’t have done that. We’re all just worried,” Scott chastises and Stiles sinks into the bed. He is only just beginning to regret his decision to yell at the Alpha but he’s not a prime example of emotional health at the moment.

                “I’m so not okay right now,” Stiles mutters and stares up at the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge Scott’s gaze.

                “We realize that but you can’t take it out on us right now. We’ve got a Druid to worry about, the Alpha pack and now a killer independent Alpha who is aiming to kill you,” Scott explains, his voice calm and collected.

                “I’m sorry to pile on problems,” Stiles responds bitterly and turns over in bed, ignoring the pain in his side, in order to escape Scott’s worried glances. He groans when he realizes he has just turned to face Isaac.

                “Listen,” Isaac starts and Stiles buries his face in his pillow. “It’s been a high stress day. We’re glad you’re okay. We all just need to calm down and think rationally. We can’t be at each other’s throats.”

                “Will you listen enough to allow me to appreciate the fact that you wrestled with an Alpha werewolf and threw wolfsbane dust right into his mouth?” Scott says from behind him, his voice full of humor.

                “It was pretty epic, right?” Stiles asks, unsure of himself.

                “Reckless,” Isaac corrects before being unable to refrain from smiling and bursts out into laugher. “But definitely epic.”

                “What if we don’t find him and he kills more people?” Stiles worries, his face falling.

                “We will find him,” Derek responds as he comes back into the room. “He picked a fight with our pack. We’re definitely finding him.”

                “Who sent you that text message?” Scott asks, jumping back into the conversation.

                “I have no clue. It was marked as Unknown. I don’t have the number in my contacts.”

                “Let’s see. What’s the number?” Scott takes the phone from the bed and unlocks it. Stiles doesn’t have the mental capacity to contemplate how Scott possibly acquired his phone password.

                He looks at the message before taking out his own phone. Scott’s eyes widen as he looks between the two messages.

                “What is it?” Derek asks, stepping behind Scott to look over his shoulder.

                “The number…” He starts and Stiles is waiting for the information with an accelerated heart rate and with anxiety building in his chest. “I know whose it is.”

                “Whose number is it?” Derek asks, unsure of the connection.

                “It’s,” Scott pauses and looks over to the other side of the room. “It’s Isaac’s.”

                Stiles looks up in alarm and straight to the other beta in the room, trying to measure his expression.

Isaac holds up his hands in surrender as if an armed police officer is hailing him for arrest.

                “It wasn’t me. I told you I lost my phone two days ago,” Isaac looks desperately to Scott for help.

                “He did,” Scott looks to Derek who is watching the whole scene with a frown.

                Derek sighs and shakes his head, grabbing Scott’s phone and looking between the two phones for confirmation.

                “Good news,” Stiles smiles and everyone looks at him. “Someone found Isaac’s phone!”

                Scott rolls his eyes and looks away.

                “Bad news,” Derek corrects. “This means someone was intentionally trying to kill you. This wasn’t you stumbling upon a burial ground by happenstance. Someone sent you to that Alpha on purpose.”

                Stiles looks around the room at all the faces of horror on the pack members. He swallows harshly and looks at his bandages.

                _Just once,_ he thinks, _I want to have a day where someone isn’t almost getting killed._

“Well,” Stiles admits. “I kind of knew that when I entered the forest. The question now is: who wants me dead this time?”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of the chapter started entering into "filler" chapter but I definitely need it to follow the plotline I'm heading down. 
> 
> What lies ahead?
> 
> Ethan finds out about Stiles in the hospital.  
> Ethan sets out to comfort the person he's courting.  
> Early hospital bail-outs because Stiles really hates hospitals.  
> More details about the elusive Alpha and his intentions. 
> 
> I'll have the next chapter up as soon as possible! It's already in progress.


	6. Fit Me for a Straight Jacket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack formulate a plan to deal with the enemy Alpha and Ethan finds out about Stiles' hospitalization and pays an visit, much to the dislike of Peter Hale. Following sex talks, propositions and panic attacks, Stiles is left alone. Facing an impending threat, Stiles pulls a prison break and flees the hospital, running to the Preserve. He witnesses something that he has never imagined happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Six, Ladies and Gentlemen!
> 
> I'm really surprised at the reception on this story. So many comments and reviews and I love each and every one of you. 
> 
> I was going to post a one-shot following Hotel California (as Ethan and Stiles actually interacted on that one) but I got distracted by this story. I was really eager to write this story and accelerate the plot-line.
> 
> Also, there are soooo many Team Ethan people right now (This is still a Sterek fic but I'm making an effort to please both sides of my readership. So many more plot twists to come!
> 
> Without further notes or parentheticals, Chapter Six!

_**Previously on Covert Courtship:** _

_**“Well,” Stiles admits. “I kind of knew that when I entered the forest. The question now is: who wants me dead this time?”** _

_CHAPTER SIX:_

                “That’s a long list,” Scott snorts.

                “It’s not that long,” Stiles huffs, offended at the insinuation. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t annoy people to the point where they put out a hit on me.”

                “Okay, okay...” Isaac laughs at the banter between the two, “Let’s make a list because if there is any chance that this monster will come back, we should be ready,” Isaac says seriously, looking at Derek for confirmation.

                “Ten bucks on the Alpha pack,” Scott says as he digs for his wallet.

                “Ha!” Isaac laughs. “I’d put at least twenty down on the Alpha Pack.”

                “Guys,” Derek interrupts the exchange of cash. “So we have the Alpha Pack. Anyone else that wants you dead Stiles?”

                Stiles freezes in thought and looks to the ceiling, trying to find the answers somewhere in the plaster.

                “The Druid if he knows who I am, not that we really know who he or she is,” Stiles thinks. “Other than that, any of your enemies kind of become my enemies,” Stiles shrugs.

                “Great, so the list is _long,”_ Scott groans.

                “So what happens if a deranged killer comes into the hospital room while I’m sleeping and smothers me with a pillow or perhaps rips my throat out with their werewolf claws?” Stiles addresses the issues they are all tip-toeing around. A little near-death experience and he doesn’t mind tackling the true problems.

                “He won’t,” Derek looks around the room. “Because we’re not going to leave you alone while you sleep.”

                 “You’re putting a detail on me?” Stiles asks, confused at the phrasing.

                “No, Stiles… I’m going to leave you here overnight with a homicidal Alpha after you, leaving you wide open for another attack that will, most likely, kill you,” Derek responds dryly. Stiles has been around Derek long enough to know this is a prime example of his sarcastic humor.

                 “Great, bury me in jeans,” He looks at Scott who just nods and makes a mental note of it.

                “No,” Derek groans. “Either Isaac or Scott will be here throughout the night. Boyd and Peter too if I can get them to agree to it.”

                Stiles wrinkles his nose at the thought of someone being in the room 24/7. Sometimes he likes he quiet time just to read and relax. Though, if Scott or Isaac are on detail they’ll most likely respect his space.

                “Oh, I suppose I can agree to that. Once upon a time, I asked Stiles if he wants to be turned. He, unfortunately said no. You’ve got some courage, kid. Shame you didn’t join the pack last night,” Peter walks in, pulling his now clean jacket closer to his body. “Don’t worry, you don’t owe me a new jacket.” He takes a seat next to Scott and looks around the room.

                “It wouldn’t have been Derek’s pack that I would have joined. Also, I feel like you wait outside for the perfect moment to enter,” Stiles narrows his eyes.

                “It’s your choice. If you can find another Alpha, you have the option of jumping packs so long as they want you and leaving won’t kill you. And no, it’s a naturally born ability I have that allows me to make graceful entrances,” Peter corrects and leans back in the chair, smirking at Derek.

                “He’s not a werewolf so it’s nothing we need to worry about,” Scott jumps in to Stiles’ defense.

                “I have to do some investigating,” Derek announces and Stiles knows he is going to give it another shot at going after the Alpha that attacked him.

                “Itching for retribution for your courted?” Peter smirks and Derek just glares at him.

                “Yes,” Derek says stiffly and looks around the room. “First shift?” He asks.

                “I’ll take it. I’m not doing anything and shouldn’t you two,” he points at Scott and Isaac. “Be in school?”

                Scott and Isaac look down guiltily.

                “Awesome, you’re skipping for me!” Stiles announces, laughing.

                “Get back to class you two. You don’t need to fail back a year. I’ll drop you off on my way into town,” Derek reprimands, looking at the two Betas.

                “Scott!” Stiles remembers, yelling for his friend as he gets up to leave. “Tell Coach I’m sorry that I won’t be in practice.”

                “He already knows. Your dad called him. He says “Get well soon,” Scott smiles and then his face falls slightly. “Well, he basically said ‘Get well soon’ as much as Coach will ever say it.” Scott corrects and waves.                

                The two betas and Derek file out of the room. Derek turns back one more time to look around the room.

                “Peter, I’m guessing I don’t need to warn you that if anything happens to Stiles under your watch…” Derek leaves the threat hanging mid-air.

                “No,” Peter leans back into the chair. “He’ll be fine.”

                “Rest, Stiles,” Derek turns to him. “I’ll be back later tonight to check in.” He shoots a small smile before turning and leaving.

                As soon as the door closes, Peter is watching him carefully.

                “What?” Stiles asks, beginning to feel a little insecure.              

                “Do you have any idea who could have done this?” Peter questions.

                “No, I would’ve told Derek if I did,” Stiles looks down, staring at the bandages on his arms.

                Peter just nods and looks around the room. He grabs the TV remote off the counter and hands it to Stiles who accepts it without a word and flicks on the TV, turning on a science-fiction movie. Peter withdraws a book from within his jacket and starts perusing the pages, looking at it with the utmost interest. Stiles itches at his arm and contemplates taking out the IV. It’s a small irritation that bugs him whenever he moves. Stiles starts peeling away the tape and Peter glances over.

                “Don’t take that out,” Peter chastises.

                “It’s annoying,” Stiles whines, looking at him with sad eyes.

                “You lost a lot of blood and that’s pumping fluid back into your system. If I carried you all the way through the woods just so you can kill yourself in the hospital, I’m going to be incredibly angry” Peter informs him and Stiles scoffs, already knowing this information.

                He presses the tape back down and sighs, falling back into bed and looking at the TV with vague interest.

                He watches the movie on TV to pass the time, wishing instead that he was outside investigating into who sent him to his near-death. After an hour or so of Peter reading silently, and occasionally looking over to the monitors that Stiles is hooked up to, there’s a tapping on the window.

                Stiles looks over just as Ethan is walking into the room, a small frown on his face and a bag of something in his hand.

                “Yeah,” Peter stands, setting his book down and appearing to make himself taller. “I don’t really want you in here right now.” Peter grins and stands in front of Stiles, blocking his view of the door.

                “Do you really want to fight in a hospital room?” Ethan growls.

                “I’d prefer not to, therefore I’ll give you the option of leaving peacefully,” Peter replies, crossing his arms and glancing back at Stiles.

                “Okay, leave peacefully then,” Ethan responds, his voice dripping with anger.

                Peter looks back at Stiles with a smile and raises an eyebrow, a full blown smirk overtaking his face.

                “I’ll be outside, kid,” Peter looks back at Ethan. “I’m calling Derek about this, so you know. I’m only leaving because I’m too old to be interfering in the courting of two teenagers,” He picks up his book and shoves past Ethan, making his way out into the hospital hallway. Ethan shuts the door behind him.

                “Hey,” He says softly. “How are you feeling?” Ethan asks. “I overheard McCall talking to Coach about how you’re in the hospital. Nobody else would tell me much else. Are those scratch marks?”

                Stiles half-smiles back and turns down the volume on the TV.

                “I, uh… well I,” Stiles stutters, finding it hard to admit what happened. To be honest, he’s still in shock about himself. “I might have gone where I shouldn’t have and I got attacked by an Alpha,” Stiles smiles sadly, and starts fiddling with his IV again, nervously trying to occupy his mind.

                When Ethan doesn’t say anything for a minute, Stiles looks up and the other teenager is practically shaking with anger, his teeth grinding together, his jaw flexed and his hands clenched into fists. His eyes flash red.

                “Another Alpha?” He manages to spit out.

                “Yeah,” Stiles admits sadly, tracing the scratches on his face.

                “Another Alpha touched you?” Ethan repeats, not believing his own words.

                “Another Alpha attacked me, yes,” Stiles smiles, his voice quiet.

                Ethan turns around, keeping his back to Stiles, his whole body still shaking with anger.

                “Ethan…” Stiles calls, not wanting anyone to see Ethan wolf out in the middle of the room.

                Ethan turns around and his anger subsides, his eyes turn back from red and he smiles softly, crossing the room and sitting on the bed, staring straight at Stiles. He doesn’t say anything instead and pulls at both of his arms, examining the many bandages. “These your only wounds?” Ethan inquires quietly, softly patting the wounds on his arm and tracing the cuts on his face with his fingertips.

                Stiles shakes his head and pulls down the top of his hospital gown, pulling back the gauze and revealing the large wounds on his chest and the many stitches sitting there.

                Ethan’s face fall into anger again, his eyes going blood red and a growl comes from low in his throat. Stiles quickly pulls the gown back up again and pushes back the covers, moving a leg to show the huge puncture wounds on his legs from where the Alpha dug his claws right in. “It’s like that on the other side,” Stiles responds. “They’re uh,” Stiles’ voice catches in his throat. “Pretty deep. He dug his claws straight in and they had to be stitched up.”

                Ethan looks on with red eyes and puts a hand softly on his leg, feeling the thick bandages there. Ethan looks away and his jaw clenches. He stares out at the window where Peter is leaning against the wall and is shooting him warning glances about the color of his eyes. They flicker back to brown.

                Ethan grabs Stiles by his wrists and moves forward, resting his head on his shoulder.

                “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Ethan laments. “He had no right to touch you. Not while I’m courting you,” Ethan shakes his head, his hair brushing against the side of Stiles’ neck.

                “It’s not your fault,” Stiles reassures him, desperately wanting to believe his own words.

                “It’s my job to protect you,” Ethan mutters, and wraps his arms around Stiles’ back, pulling him closer.

                Stiles feels awkward and looks over into the hallway, Peter is smirking against the wall but doesn’t move, his gaze cast upon the book he is reading.

                Stiles jumps back when Ethan tilts his face and shoves his nose against Stiles’ neck.

                Ethan can feel Stiles’ tension when he flinches and pulls back, looking into his eyes.

                “Sorry,” Ethan mutters again. “It’s a..” Ethan smiles, slightly embarrassed. “It’s a wolf thing.”

                Stiles just smiles lightly and looks away, bowing his head. Ethan moves his head down and presses his nose against Stiles’.

                “I was worried you were dying,” Ethan mutters, his voice ragged and deep. “I’m so glad you’ll make it. He didn’t like…” Ethan is afraid to ask the question, instead he leans back and traces his fingertips against the wounds on his face, tracing the lines of the scratches. “Bite you, did he?” Ethan asks, looking up and pushing his nose against Stiles’ again.

                “No,” Stiles mutters, glad that he doesn’t have to give an affirmative answer. Ethan sighs, an indistinct sigh but, from context, Stiles assumes it’s one of relief.

                Ethan smiles, the grin overtaking his face. “Good. I like human Stiles,” He laughs.

                “I like Human Stiles too,” Stiles smiles.

                “I would’ve taken you into my pack though,” Ethan offers, knowing it is now invalid.

                “Isn’t that against Alpha Pack rules?” Stiles questions.

                “No, I’m courting you. We’re allowed to have our mates,” Ethan corrects, he pulls back and leans in to hug him again. Pulling him close. Stiles doesn’t fight it and simply leans into it, resting his head on Ethan’s shoulders. He finds it hard, but not impossible, to believe that Ethan had anything to do with his attack. “Is the Alpha still alive?” Ethan asks, his grip tightening on Stiles, holding him close.

                “Yeah,” Stiles responds. “He managed to escape Derek and the pack.”

                Ethan growls and Stiles can feel it vibrating against his chest, a soft reverberation that crawls over his skin. It’s a possessive growl, one laced with ownership and _mine_.

                “He won’t escape my pack. I can’t let him live for what he did to you. He violated my claim. He also violated Derek’s,” Ethan huffs at the reference. “The guy just pissed off two packs. He’s a dead man walking.”

                “Picked the wrong person?” Stiles laughs.

                “He picked the only person who would guarantee his most painful death at the hands of MANY Alphas,” Ethan speaks lowly, in a threatening tone. “If he had messed with one person’s mate, he would only have one werewolf after him and no guarantee that they would be an Alpha. They messed with you, messing with me and Derek. They have my pack of Alphas and Derek after them,” Ethan presses on Stiles’ lower back and lifts him off the bed, maneuvering to a laying position on the hospital mattress, keeping his arms around him. Ethan presses his nose to Stiles’ again and interlaces a hand in his. “I hate that pack you run with but they are the reason you’re alive and with me,” Ethan mutters, pulling away to put a nose to his neck again. He breathes in deep.

                Stiles doesn’t know what he feels for the Alpha yet but he likes not being alone. After that attack, he’s glad to have someone capable of protecting him, keeping his close. His anxiety lurks in the background though, reminding him that he still isn’t _completely_ sure that Ethan isn’t responsible for all his worries. He can be acting, he reminds himself but with the way that Ethan is treating him right now, it’s awfully hard to think that of the Alpha.

                Ethan huffs against his neck and nuzzles into it.

                “You smell like that damn bastard,” Ethan groans.

                Stiles is finding it hard to think. “Derek?” He asks.

                “Yes. Did you have sex with him or something as thanks for saving you?” Ethan pulls away and looking down at him with a frown.

                “What?” Stiles chokes out, his eyes widening. “No!”

                “His smell is all over you,” Ethan frowns still, not believing Stiles’ words.

                “No! First of all, I’m too injured to have sex,” Stiles scoffs, not liking the accusation. “Ethan, I didn’t sleep with Derek. He carried me to the couch and I was sleeping with his jacket,” Stiles looks away at Ethan’s pressing look.

                “Well that’s disappointing,” Ethan grins, he leans up and reaches back to pull off his own jacket, shrugging it off to wrap it around Stiles’ shoulders. “The too injured part, that is. I’m glad you didn’t sleep with him. There,” Ethan pulls the jacket in. “That’ll wipe away his smell.” Ethan looks back and smiles at the look of the jacket.

                Stiles smiles. That feeling of awkward is back, lingering in his ribcage but he pushes it down. Peter is still in the hallway reading and Ethan is smirking in front of him.  He hasn’t gotten to know Ethan so well so the physical contact is unusual for him. He had figured that his first time holding someone close, being that close to someone, would have been him holding a girl close to his chest. Now, he has Ethan and Derek (two _guys)_ fighting for his affection. He’s not quite sure how to feel about it.

                Ethan looks over and remembers the bag that he set on the table.

                “Crap,” Ethan laughs. “I forgot. I brought you food. Hospital food stinks,” He reaches over and grabs the bag, shoving it into Stiles’ lap. Stiles smiles in true happiness, finally thinking with his stomach. “I hope it’s still warm,” Ethan laughs. Stiles moves to sit up and hisses at the stitches pulling on his chest.

                Ethan quickly moves to assist him, wrapping one of his arms around Stiles’ back and pressing one softly against the bandages on his chest. He pushes against his lower back and lifts him up very slowly, keeping his torso straight. He helps him to a sitting position and props the pillows up behind him.

                “There you go,” Ethan smiles, handing back over the bag of food and stepping aside to take the chair by his bed.

                “As I am blissfully unaware of werewolf politics, this isn’t anything more than a meal, right?” Stiles asks carefully.

                Ethan laughs. “No, I promise that this is nothing more than a meal. Just me trying to take care of an injured mate,” Ethan grins.

                Stiles eyes’ narrow and he grins. He looks out the window into the hallway where Peter is reading and holds up the food bag with a skeptical look on his face. Peter looks up at him, inspects the bag and raises a thumb before burying his face in the book again.

                “See, I told you,” Ethan whines. 

                “Thank you,” Stiles answers, digging into the bag to pull out fries and multiple hamburgers. Ethan shoves the drink over to him, setting it on his bedside table. He rips off the foil and takes a huge bite, practically moaning at the taste. “Food was a good call,” Stiles smiles with a half-full mouth of bread and hamburger.

                “Well, I figured it was better than leaving dead animals at your doorstep,” Ethan rubs the back of his head innocently and leans back into the chair.

                “What?” Stiles’ eyes widen, choking slightly on bread.

                “Wolf thing,” Ethan repeats. “A wolf courting another will often leave a dead animal at their feet as an offering. Represents that their mate can take care of them, feed them,” Ethan lectures and Stiles nods, remembering reading that somewhere in one of his books.

                “Still dead animal,” Stiles points to the hamburger. “Thanks for not bringing me a dead cow though. This is much better,” Stiles grins as he takes another bite.

                Ethan’s phone goes off and he looks at it with a frown.

                “Business call?” Stiles raises an eyebrow at the expression.

                “Aidan and Alpha,” Ethan corrects. “Practice is soon and they want me back in school.” Ethan groans and moves to stand up. “I’m sorry to go. Can I assume that jerk out there,” He shoots a thumb at Peter, “Is capable of taking care of you while we go and hunt that Alpha down and skin him or do you want me to have one of my pack stay here?” Ethan asks, his voice laced with worry. He sits on the edge of the bed while Stiles is eating.

                Stiles shakes at the thought of an enemy Alpha being in his room while he sleeps.

                “Peter is capable,” Stiles admits, never thinking he would ever use that phrasing to describe the ex-Alpha. “Derek will be back eventually,” Stiles confesses.

                Ethan frowns and rolls his eyes. “Can I convince you to come back with me and let me take care of you and nurse you back to health?” Ethan pouts.

                Stiles just laughs at the expression of the buff teenager pouting like a female toddler.

                “I’ll be fine here. Also, try explaining that option to my father. Plus, I may pull a jail break and leave here. Who knows?” Stiles laughs, playing it off as a joke. He knows in the back of his mind that this is a good possibility in his future.

                “Call me if you’re thinking about jumping the coop,” Ethan frowns, grabbing his hand and rubbing a thumb against his palm. “Don’t make me worry about you. There’s an Alpha out there that wants you dead and until I find him, I’ll be perpetually on edge.”

                “Okay,” Stiles just nods.

                “Stay here and heal. Call if you need anything. Even food, or a hug…,” Ethan squeezes his hand. Stiles just nods again. Ethan pulls him in for a hug again and Stiles leans into it, liking the feeling of warmth. His wounds seem to ache less with one of the Alphas in proximity. When Derek was close, the pain subsided. With Ethan close, the wounds don’t irritate him as much. Ethan pulls back and presses his lips against the scratch marks on his face, his lips landing just above his right eye. Stiles averts his eyes and shies away but Ethan switches plans and moves his aim downwards, pressing his lips against Stiles’ lips briefly, less than a few seconds, pushing into it before Stiles begins pulling back in surprise.  

                “Much better,” Ethan grins.

                “Ethan,” Stiles warns, touching his lips. Peter moves from the wall and eyes up the door suspiciously.

                “I know,” Ethan raises his hands up in surrender. “Not after the first date,” He laughs. “But I had to.”

                Ethan tugs his jacket closer around Stiles.

                “Do you want....” Stiles starts but Ethan shakes his head.

                “Keep it. It looks good on you and I like you smelling like me,” Ethan stands up and looks at his phone once more. “I’ve got to go. Get some rest and I’ll be back later. Maybe with the heart of that Alpha as a trophy.” His eyes flash red briefly as he shows his teeth.

                “Don’t bring the heart here,” Stiles warns. “I don’t need to see it.”

                “But then how will you know that the Alpha who is courting you is big and strong and capable of ridding you of your enemies?” Ethan gloats, standing up straight and poking his chest out. “How will I one-up the other Alpha who is courting you?” He pouts.

                Stiles rolls his eyes. “You’ve got a camera phone,” He responds.

                “Hey, other wolves would be honored that their courted bagged an Alpha for him,” Ethan holds his hands up in mock surrender again.

                “I’m not a wolf,” Stiles replies angrily, crossing his arms and trying to avoid the bandaging.

                “I know,” Ethan grins. “You’re a fragile human that I need to protect. But fine, I will hopefully bring good news and a picture of a dead Alpha back to you. Personally, I think bringing you his heart is more romantic but that’s for you to decide.”

                “I’m not fragile and I don’t need you to protect me,” Stiles frowns indignantly. He’s managed to survive up until now.

                “But I do,” Ethan still smiles. His phone goes off again and Ethan groans. “Aidan is such a cock-block,” Ethan whines.

                “He’s not cock-blocking anything,” Stiles sighs. “You’re not getting laid in a hospital.”

                “Oh, so other places aren’t off the table? Sure I can’t convince you to come back with me. I can love you back to health,” Ethan smiles and raises an eyebrow suggestively.

                “Ethan,” Stiles warns again, his voice low.

                “Ha, I get it. I get it. I’m leaving. Eat up. Heal up. I’ll go bag an Alpha so you’ll love me,” He shoots Stiles a thumbs up before leaving the room, passing Peter with a suggestive smile.

                Peter enters the room with a groan and shuts the door, making his way back to the chair.

                “He’s pushy,” Peter states and Stiles just nods. “You’re not going to have a sexual identity crisis, are you? Because I can leave and get Scott in here…” Peter backs up. “I’m sure you can sort out your orientation with your best friend. Or my nephew, I’m sure he’ll set you straight,” Peter smiles, showing all his teeth and raising an eyebrow. “Well,” he amends. “Set you _not straight_.”  

                Stiles rolls his eyes and groans, muttering “Oh god,” and trying to smother himself with his pillow.

                “Wow, relax,” Peter replies defensively. “I’m not giving you a sex talk. A, I’m not your father and B, you couldn’t pay me enough.”

                “Good,” Stiles frowns and goes back to eating his food, drowning his sorrows in greasy French fries and delicious hamburgers. “This is just an offering of food, right?”

                “Yes. He already got you into a courtship. Doesn’t need to do much else except seal the courtship and make you his mate and that’s not through food,” Peter opens his book and stares at the pages blankly.

                “How does he seal the courtship?” Stiles asks curiously, realizing he fell asleep before he got to that part of his book. He takes a bite of food.

                Peter looks up in surprise and shuts his book with a loud slamming noise.

                “Well, now we are having a sex talk,” Peter shifts in his seat uncomfortably. “Courtships are sealed through sex,” He responds point-of-factually. “Something I’m guessing you didn’t know.”

                Stiles’ eyes widen and he finds himself choking on his food again. This isn’t good for his health. Peter reaches over and slaps at his back. Stiles gags and breathes in heavily. “No one mentioned that!” Stiles yells, wincing at his wounds.

                “Yeah, I wouldn’t have guessed,” Peter responds sarcastically. “Making someone your mate is a physical process.”

                “I’m not even gay,” Stiles yells.

                “You’re dating two men,” Peter laughs. “One of them being my nephew. Hey, I’ll be your uncle-in-law.”

                Stiles puts his food aside for his own safety and starts breathing in heavily, trying to catch his breath.

                Peter gets up and sighs. He walks over to the door and pulls down the shades, repeating the same process with the window. When it’s dark he walks to the bed, to a rapidly inhaling Stiles and lifts his chin up sharply so they’re staring eye-to-eye. His eyes turn a light blue. Stiles tries pulling away.

                “Look at me,” He orders and Stiles stares straight into the blue and feels himself calming down, focusing on the wolf eyes in front of him. “Good,” Peter releases his face and stands up, walking over to pull up the blinds. “So you’re in a relationship with two Alpha werewolves, one of which probably has ulterior motives to kill you. It comes with running with werewolves kid. Hell, I’ve tried to kill a lot of people. Succeeded at it. I’ll admit to being a bad person. I turned your best friend,” Peter held his hands out before looking confused. “Where am I going with this?” Peter thought for a moment and Stiles huffed out in frustration. “Yes, I remember. There’s going to be a ton of problems in your future but being tied to someone like Derek isn’t a bad thing and I’m not just being a wing-man to my nephew who KILLED me.” Peter is ranting now, turning around the room impatiently.

                “You’re not good at pep-talks,” Stiles laughs.

                “What I’m saying is that while Ethan might have plans to kill you, Derek doesn’t. He’s not as pushy as Romeo who was just here and he’ll wait until you’re comfortable. Hell, I don’t care if you don’t have sex with either of them. You can potentially go until you die without having sex with either of them, doesn’t matter. Choice is yours kid. You can spend the next few years coming out of the closet if need be,” Peter laughs and sits back down.

                “I don’t like men,” Stiles argues.

                “Uh-huh,” Peter just nods and stares at his book.

                “I’m not in denial,” Stiles argues. Some of the nurses are looking into the window.

                “Didn’t say you were,” Peter replies off-handedly.

                “Because I’m fairly certain I like women,” Stiles defends himself.

                “Okay,” Peter nods, not looking at him.

                “And even if I did like men, I wouldn’t date Alphas. I wouldn’t date werewolves.” Stiles crosses his arms.

                “Yeah,” Peter nods again and Stiles is getting frustrated.

                “But I am right now. Even though I like women. Human women,” Stiles sounds confused.

                “Yeah. Two Alphas,” Peter responds unenthusiastically.

                “Oh god,” Stiles acknowledges. “Why am I dating two Alphas? What if I like men?” Stiles starts freaking out and Peter reaches over and pats him on the shoulder.

                “Again, I can get Scott or Derek if you need to work this out,” Peter thumbs towards the door, mocking sympathy and Stiles groans and rolls his eyes.

                To avoid the situation, Stiles throws a hamburger right at the ex-Alpha. He catches it mid-air and starts unwrapping the foil.

                “I threw that at you,” Stiles stutters. “Don’t misinterpret. I’ve learned from my mistakes! I’m not asking for…” Stiles starts rambling.

                “Don’t flatter yourself,” Peter bites into the hamburger and reads his book.

                Stiles decides that now is a good time to shut his mouth. He pulls out his phone

                **To: Scott McCall (1:50:23PM): _If you loved me, you would save me and break me out of the hospital._**

Peter remains quiet and keeps reading and Stiles turns his attention to the TV.

**From: Scott McCall (1:51:04PM): _Peter? After practice I’ll come and save you._**

Stiles glances at his watch and sighs, realizing he has another hour at the very least until he has good company.

                Stiles sits in silence with Peter in the room for half an hour before Peter’s phone goes off. He nonchalantly pulls it out of his pocket and flips it open.

                “Peter,” he gruffly answers. “Yeah. No, he’s alive still. Lover wolf stopped by,” He pauses. “No, I didn’t leave him. I definitely spied on him,” Peter raises an eyebrow at Stiles. Stiles assumes by now that it’s Derek calling in. “Yeah, lots of physical touching. Definitely. Kissing too. Went all Romeo,” Peter laughs. “Even gave him food and his jacket.” Stiles can hear the growl even from where he’s sitting. “Business? Shoot? Yeah, drop them off and I’ll translate them. Okay,” Peter responds. “Of course he’s sitting next to me. Will do. See you later. Don’t get killed or I’ll be Alpha again and have to deal with these brats,” Peter responds and hangs up. Throwing his phone on the table and continue to read.

                “Derek?” Stiles questions.

                “Obviously. He says to take off the jacket,” Peter smiles.

                “Why?” Stiles inquires curiously.

                “Makes you smell like Ethan. Makes your other boyfriend territorial or something,” Peter shrugs.

                Stiles grins and leaves the jacket on, leaning back in the bed. Peter chokes back a chuckle and shakes his head.

                “Okay,” Peter looks over. “Sleeping time for the injured human. Go to bed. It shuts you up and it heals you. Win-win.”

“You’re not going to smother me with a pillow or something?” Stiles looks at him skeptically, not trusting the werewolf who turned Scott and tried to kill him. He also killed plenty of people in the past.

“Not worth the effort. You’ll get yourself killed eventually and I want to stay off the Alpha Pack’s radar, thank you very much.” Peter laughs. He takes the empty food bag off of Stiles’ bed and throws the covers over Stiles’ face. Stiles glares as he pulls the blanket down. He just sighs and shifts over carefully, trying to close his eyes. He wants to rant that he’s not tired but, before he knows it, he’s sleeping again.

                Peter sits idly and reads, occasionally flicking his gaze over the injured teen to check if he perished in his sleep.

                When Stiles wakes up again, Peter is gone and the room is completely empty.

                He turns over and looks around the room before he grabs a piece of paper that’s lying on the table.

                _We caught scent of the Alpha in the woods again and we are trying to go after him. It’s an all-call-to-arms type of thing. Don’t worry. We will stay on his tail so you don’t have to worry about him doubling back to the hospital. Stay safe and we will as well- Scott._

Stiles hangs onto the letter tightly and wonders when Scott left it for him to read. It could have been hours ago and they can already be in a fight with the Alpha, possibly getting extremely injured. He feels the worry seeping in and he feels helplessness as he is currently tied to this bed.

                He knows he is being irrational now but he is fearing the moment if Ethan’s Pack and Derek’s enter the battlefield at the same time and go after the same prey. It could be an all-out war between the two forces, even though they have a common enemy. Werewolves are greedy about killings and strict about maintaining their honor.

                Stiles sighs and wants to drown in his blankets, to fall asleep and not have to deal with all of this mayhem. He is beginning to realize that he is now the liaison between the two groups, the linking factor that might prevent the two Alphas from slaughtering each other. He never even _warned_ Derek that Ethan and his pack would be out hunting as well. He makes a judgment call all of sudden and goes with his gut instinct.

                He needs to help or someone, other than the enemy Alpha who attacked him, is going to end up dead. He can’t afford it being Scott or Derek, or even Isaac. He feels like he has already lost too many people. Stiles takes a look at his bandages and sighs, forcing himself up despite the pain. He steps off the side of the bed and winces at the pain in his legs, from the deep puncture wounds. He holds his breath and looks at the IV in his arm. He stumbles to the corner drawer and withdraws a gauze pad and some tape. He withdraws the IV slowly, pulling straight down. He throws it on the bed and presses the gauze pad against the wound, applying pressure and raising it. He wraps tape carefully around the needle mark.  

 He uses mental stamina to force down the pain and to focus on the task at hand. If he thinks about it hard enough, he can ignore the wounds. He stumbles off the side of the bed and reaches for a pile of his belongings in the corner. Luckily, the shades on his room are drawn shut from the outside hallway.     

                He grasps at the new pair of clothing, probably left there by his father as his last clothes were in shreds, and throws off his hospital gown, stripping and throwing on the fresh clothes. He reaches down and pulls on Ethan’s jacket to disguise the bandages on his arms. He throws the hood up halfway to hide his face. He digs around on the table and finds his car keys.

 _Please let my Jeep be out there. Please let something go right._ He mutters.

                He stumbles out of the room, head down. He looks around and sees the bustle of the hospital, people rushing by without even noticing him. He turns around to close the door and a nurse comes up behind him.

                “Hi, I’m Mr. uh…” He can hear her fumble around with papers and he freezes in his spot, refusing to say anything. “Stilinski’s? Yes. Stilinski’s late-shift nurse. Is he still sleeping?” Stiles holds his breath and realizes she doesn’t know who he is or what her patient even looks like. He can use this to his advantage.

                “Yeah, I just visited him and he’s still out cold. Poor kid,” Stiles responds, dropping his voice and refusing to turn around. He acts like he is fumbling in his pockets.

                “Indeed. I’ll check in on him in a few minutes. Visiting hours end soon, by the way. Are you family?” She asks, and Stiles grasps his keys in his pocket and jingles them around to make a commotion.

                “Nope, just his friend from High School. I’ll get going. Parents want me home anyway,” He laughs and turns around, avoiding eye contract and only showing her the left of his face. “Have a good night,” He yells as he is walking down the hallway. He tries his hardest not to limp.

                “You too, sir, ” She cheerfully replies. Stiles risks a peek back and sees her heading in the opposite way of his room. He lets out a sigh and hurries along, walking out the visitor’s entrance and blending into a family who is also leaving, two little kids in tow.

                He makes his way to the parking lot with only light pain and a slight limp. As long as he doesn’t bend too much, nothing bothers him. With his legs straight, the leg wounds don’t pester him much.

                As if seeing a waterhole in the middle of a desert, he stops and sees his Jeep parked out back in the parking lot. He nearly sprints to it and climbs in, wincing as he takes a seat. He gives himself a minute to handle the pain before turning the key the ignition. He has no clue how long it will take them to notice that he’s not in his room but he doesn’t want to stick around to find out.

                The engine, like a miracle, roars to life and he pulls out, happy that he managed to pull an escape. In all fairness, he did tell Ethan he was contemplating it. He gets off the interstate and heads towards the Preserve. He is just really hoping that the pack stays on the Alpha’s trail so he doesn’t have to worry about the Alpha following him and attacking him. He is a little more than concerned now that he doesn’t have a dagger or wolfsbane to protect him.

                He’ll be a sitting duck in the woods if the Alpha latches onto his scent. Stiles hopes Ethan’s scent on the jacket is enough to stop the werewolf from attacking him. After all, it is basically a claim to their relationship.

                Stiles grows more nervous as he pulls into the Preserve and sees two different cars, both empty. One of them is Derek’s car, sitting there locked up. He has no clue who owns the other car. He swallows and steps out of his Jeep, gasping as he places weight on his wounds. Stiles doesn’t even want to think about what will happen if his father is the one to find him missing from the hospital. He glances at his phone and, after seeing no new messages or calls, he can only assume that no one has noticed yet.

                Stiles takes a deep breath and steps into the woods, not knowing where to go from here. He has a nagging idea that he should return to where he was last attacked but his legs shake at the thought of going back there, of having to see the place where he almost died. He places a hand over the bandages on his chest and carries on into the trees, trying to stay off main paths and small trails.

                For all he knows, Scott could have left that message awhile back and the Alpha could be dead and gone by now. Granted, he thinks someone would have come back and left him a second note. He can’t really afford to rely on wishful thinking though.

                He’s walking into a woods with two packs of werewolves hunting for a single enemy and the man who tried to kill him, on the loose and Stiles can’t help but feel like this is a suicide mission. Scott is his best friend though and if the Alpha Pack is going to go after anyone, it’s him or Isaac. If he can step in and work to get the packs away from each other, he will consider it a success. God knows Ethan and Derek are going to cart him back to the hospital anyway.

                Stiles isn’t stupid, as much as some of his teachers insist that he is. He’s considered his options and weighed the price. The Alpha will think twice about attacking him a second time, as he probably knows by now that Stiles is in a courtship with two different Alphas of two different packs. He’s not worth the risk. Eventually, the Alpha is going to be caught as the Sheriff already knows about the bodies. The hunters are even on his trail. He’s a dead man walking and Stiles hopes that he dies before the Alpha gets a few more hits in.

                He knows that this is a risk. He just wants to cool some of the tension between the two packs. He knows he is the one to help. He’s got a connection to Ethan _and_ Derek and contrary to popular belief, they two hot-heads do listen to some common sense occasionally.

                Stiles feels like he’s been walking forever on broken legs by the time he even hears anything remotely suspicious. As soon as he hears the muttering of spoken words, he stops dead in his tracks and crouches down, pulling the jacket closer to him. It still smells like the teenage Alpha, a mixture of cologne and sweat and woods and dirt. He doesn’t know who he is walking up on but he hopes the scent marks him as an Alpha and not as prey. Stiles drops down to the ground, ignoring the screaming of his wounds and peeks out from above a bush, directing his gaze to a clearing a few feet in front of him. He can make out two distinct shapes and he is really _hoping_ it’s not Ethan and Derek duking it out with claws and teeth.

                As his eyes focus, he knows exactly who the two shapes are and it chills him to the bone. The sight is the last thing he ever wanted to see or expected to see out here. He’s thrown for a loop at it and isn’t sure which one of the screaming plans in his brain is the correct one. Anything could be true now.

                Stiles backs up and breathes heavily, covering his mouth at the surprise. There, in the clearing, are Derek and the Alpha, talking in human form as if they are carrying on a covert conversation about something as dangerous as types of tea. Derek doesn’t have his hands around the Alpha’s throat, nor his claws digging into the Alpha’s ribcage, trying to tear out his heart. No, Derek isn’t even _trying_ to kill the Alpha and that’s what scares him. Derek swore he would kill him for touching Stiles but right now they seem like old acquaintances, talking about business plans.

                Stiles is trying not to freak out, he really is, but the whole scene is upsetting to him. Why isn’t there any violence? Where is the rest of the pack?

                Derek and the Alpha seem enthralled in their conversation and the Alpha is the definition of calm, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. Derek looks up briefly and sniffs at the wind and Stiles presses himself deeper into the bush and into his jacket. Derek takes on a confused look before turning back to the conversation.

                Stiles can’t believe that the two know each other. That Derek can even be working with that Monster that attacked him. Not when Derek pulled him out of there and took him to the hospital, desperate about his health.

                Stiles can’t seem to close his open jaw. The two Alphas continue talking and Stiles continues to grow uneasy. The blows don’t come, the violence doesn’t ensue. Derek continues talking to the Alpha and pacing, not making any attempt to kill him. He’s completely stoic in his human form, not showing any signs of anger or shifting and the other Alpha seems completely complacent and content to just stand there, leaning against the tree in pleasant conversation. Stiles wants to run away and hide but he knows they’ll hear him. He’s against two Alphas now and his chances of getting out of here unscathed are growing slimmer with each passing moment. He moves to silence his phone and remains sitting there, formulating the next plan of movement.

                He’s so focused on figuring how to get out of here that he doesn’t even notice when someone comes up behind him and shoves a hand against his mouth.

                “Be quiet,” The person whispers carefully. Stiles can feel hot breath against his neck and claws pressing lightly at his cheek. They’re not pressed hard enough to dig into flesh. He’s too afraid to move. “Don’t make any noise. I’m going to get you out of here,” The voice tells him and Stiles can’t turn his head to look around. Instead, a hand wraps around his abdomen and pulls him backwards slowly, navigating him out of the bush in relative silence.

                When he’s out of the foliage and out of view of the two Alphas, the person surrenders their hand and allows him to exhale out of his mouth.

                “You know, it’s really weird tracking someone in the woods and getting a whiff of your own scent,” The voice chuckles in a whisper. “As much as I want to kill the both of them, violently right now, I want you out of here first. I told you to call me before escaping the hospital. Now, why is your other courted plotting to kill you?”

                Stiles turns his head, slowly. His whole world is crumbling down in front of him, falling in fragments at his feet and shattering into irreversible pieces. Even the best laid plans are led astray. In the list of enemies, he never put down Derek. Well that’s not true. He put down Derek on that list as soon as he met him but there were plenty of people ahead of Derek on that list. He put down Ethan close to the top though, and Ethan is currently pulling him out of the woods away from two people: one of the people courting him and away from the other that tried to kill him.

               

                

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, if you've reached this end-note I can only assume that you really hate me right now. Like extreme hate. Seventh-circle of hell-hate. 
> 
> There are probably people staring at this ending like "Are you kidding me, Moirai?" and "What is Derek doing?! He can't betray Stiles." And "Moirai lies, this isn't Sterek." 
> 
> Right now, I'm grinning from ear to ear because when I sent this to HeartoftheMirror for initial reading it was titled, "I'm the Marquis de Sade of Emotional Torment. I build ships up out of spare wood and sink them with cannon balls. Sinking ships like a Sadist of Sentiments." 
> 
> And yes, you lovely readers. You probably came here under the "Sterek" tag. And this IS Sterek but I'm going to make Derek work for this relationship. 
> 
> Do not lose hope in me as things grow dim in the future, the ever-loving hope and light of Sterek flickering far off into the distance as if it is going out. Because it won't go out. As we drift into Stethan (guys what is the portmanteau for this?) land, drifting further and further from Sterek... Sterek is growing stronger in the distance. Sterek is a mighty bon-fire now, blazing away while Stethan floats through cob-webs and through turbulent waters. Because let me tell you something, dear reader, the ship is floating back to the bonfire, drawn to its light and danger and heat. 
> 
> If you haven't followed that metaphor, as I haven't, I will put a TL;DR
> 
> TL;DR... Things are stirring up in Beacon Hills. Sometimes first impressions should be trusted. Pull a Stiles and go with your gut. Also, my tags are accurate. THIS IS STILL STEREK. Even though this seems like (insert portmanteau of Stiles/Ethan here). I have a plan. 
> 
> Reviews and Comments appreciated, especially while I'm being a sadist.
> 
> [Update]: You Team Ethan people got to me. Sometimes in the future I'll write a separate Ethan/Stiles story (seriously guys, get me a portmanteau.) This is Sterek but many of you have this as your OTP and respect the other ship in this.   
> As for people asking why there aren't many Ethan/Stiles stories it's because Ethan isn't a well-developed character in the series. I took Ethan in as an abstract concept and made him his own identity in my story, gave him a personality and related him to Stiles. My Ethan is different from Teen Wolf Ethan, therefore it's not a well-known ship.


	7. Pis Aller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last time I left you guys, Stiles had just seen Derek having a conversation with the Alpha who had attacked him in the woods. Ethan comes up and pulls him out of the scene, rushing him away to safety but Derek and the Alpha aren't ones to give up... leading to a chase in the woods. With the werewolves engaged in battle, Stiles prepares his last line of defense. He's mentally prepared himself for one thing: He will kill Derek if it ensures his survival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for that last cliff-hanger. I spent the last days in the backwoods ATVing and scrawling down notes for this story in a spiral notebook.. so progress was a little slow. Somewhere, lost twenty miles off of the main trail, I decided to re-think the ending of this and scrap my current pre-written ending. Yup, didn't like it and this one is so much more fitting. Bound to hit you guys even more in the feels. I'm an emotional sadist, I'm so sorry. 
> 
> Anyway, this is me trying to introduce a bad-ass Stiles moment because I'm sick of writing him as the Damsel in Distress. We have known Stiles in canon to use whatever means necessary to save himself and friends and this carries over now into the story. 
> 
> Without a too long of a length author's note, I'll give you Chapter Seven

                With enemies coming at him from all angles recently, Stiles figured he could at least move Derek to the bottom of his “my potential future killer” list. Unfortunately, that assumption is slowly turning out to be a little more than dead wrong. The only thing that comes to the front of his mind when he reviews the scene of Derek casually speaking to the Alpha is the near undeniable chance that Derek may have sold him out, that Derek wants him dead. Derek is somehow working with the Alpha to kill him. That betrayal stings Stiles right down to his core.

                But the facts aren’t adding up completely. Why would _Derek_ want him dead? Sure, the Alpha has a flare for the over-dramatic but he isn’t one to stage assassinations without any given reason. So, okay… Stiles knows a little too much about werewolves. He occasionally interferes in the way Derek handles his pack and he is always pulling Scott away from the pack, telling him to keep a strong connection to his human side and his human life. But, with other enemies like the Dark Druid and Alpha pack in town Stiles shouldn’t be at the top of his hit-list. It just doesn’t make sense. Derek should be keeping his allies close, not killing them off at the least convenient moment. Stiles could even help Derek’s pack, as he has proven in the past. He’s done what Derek wanted so far, he’s saved Derek’s life on occasion (not out of duty but solely because Derek needed help) and he’s always sure and careful to keep his knowledge of werewolves a secret under lock and unfindable key. He grounds Scott, keeping him from going on murderous rampages and he is a “spark”, and even able to manipulate mountain ash.

                It just doesn’t make any sense at all for Derek to want to kill him. Well, it makes sense for Derek to want to kill him but it doesn’t make any sense at all for Derek to want to kill him _right now._

He’s on auto-pilot at the moment while Ethan pulls him from the bush and takes his hand, leading him from the woods.

                “I want to go home,” Stiles mumbles somewhere in the chaos and Ethan just looks at him sadly.

                “You shouldn’t be out of the hospital,” Ethan whines and keeps his eyes on the clearing in front of them, backing away and continually scanning the woods.

                “Are we going to talk about what I just saw at all or can we all just continue denying it?” Stiles yells and Ethan glares at him, pushing a finger to his lips.

                Ethan looks around after Stiles’ outburst and sighs. Stiles shoots him an inquisitive look before Ethan walks over and crouches in front of him.

                “They heard you,” Ethan growls. “Let me run us out of here,” Ethan orders and Stiles just steps back, looking behind them towards the clearing.

                Stiles is extremely hesitant. He doesn’t know who to trust anymore and his mind is telling him to not head off with anyone who has the ability to shift into a hybrid man-wolf. He just wants to go home. He wants to lay down and heal and forget about all of this courtship and assassination business. Damn it, he wants to head back to the time when he knew nothing about werewolves. He might even trade his new connection with Lydia for the chance to forget Derek’s betrayal and the constant threat on his and Scott’s lives.

 If Derek is trying to kill him though, as it looked like when he interrupted their lovely plotting, Stiles is losing time quickly and he is a minute or two away from a pair of teeth against his throat, biting down with incredible power.

                “Stiles,” Ethan begs. “Come on, I can’t fight against both of them and protect you at the same time.”

                Stiles jumps up and down in his spot, rubbing at his face and looks between Ethan and the clearing, trying to make a spur of the moment decision. He would love to say that he went with his gut, but that isn’t the case. He’s going with odds here. He hasn’t seen Ethan and the Alpha together, and as far as he knows... Ethan hasn’t directly tried to kill him yet. He needs someone to get him home and, from there, he will manage to take care of himself.

                “I can run,” Stiles mumbles, not actually trusting his decision himself. Ethan looks back at him for a moment, eyes narrowed, scanning him from head to toe.

                “You’re wounded,” Ethan responds, “You can’t outrun them.”

                “I can run,” Stiles repeats, not wanting to argue when two Alphas are on their trail.

                Ethan groans and starts running forward, shoving Stiles in front of him and keeping a slower pace behind him, glancing back with a concerned look on his face.

                Stiles can feel the wounds on his legs burning, the pain coming back full force as if he is being attacked all over again, the claws digging deep into his skin. He tries to ignore the burning agony and rushes forward as fast as he can, his chest heaving and upsetting the claw marks there as well. His vision becomes clouded with the onset of pain, hazy with mind-consuming agony. He can hear Ethan running behind him, not even breaking a sweat.

                After a half minute of running, he can hear the breaking of branches behind him, the heaving of deep breaths and growling from two different individuals. His mind is running too many circles and he is in far too much pain to turn around and confirm his fears, that Derek and the Alpha are wolfed out and catching up to him fast.  Even though Ethan can dart forward, he stays behind and matches Stiles’ slower pace. He can hear the feet coming faster behind him now and Stiles’ breathing accelerates, his heart beating full force to keep him running forward. Somehow, he manages to dodge downed branches and roots, jump off larger plants and still manages to run relatively straight.

                Stiles doesn’t even want to turn around to see Ethan’s expression. He knows that, somehow, it will make the situation more real. That, if he can see the concern or the primal rage on Ethan’s face, his impending death may be much easier to acknowledge. So he doesn’t, he keeps running forward. He can’t help it when his eyes dart to the left as Ethan runs forward, stopping mid-step and transforming, teeth elongating, hair growing and eyes glowing a bright red.       

                Stiles stops and turns around to confront his fears, looking behind him and seeing Derek and the additional Alpha running beside him, both pissed off and turned, glaring Ethan down with intense hatred.

                Ethan digs his feet into the ground and glances over at Stiles, exposing his teeth to the wolves, growling low in his chest.

                “Run,” Ethan yells and Stiles obeys out of pure terror, turning a complete 180 degrees and booking off, adrenaline being the only thing to keep him upright. Derek and the Alpha take notice of Stiles’ turn in direction and the Alpha takes off after him.

                Stiles risks a look over his shoulder and doesn’t like what he sees, Derek is launching himself straight at Ethan and the Alpha is following close to his heels. Stiles doesn’t want to die like this. As much as he had accepted his premature death in the field, when he found the other bodies, the pain of the initial attack scared him away from his impending doom. If the Alpha behind him has any sense of mercy, if Derek has any sense of honor, the Alpha will be under orders to end Stiles quickly, to go straight for the throat and hit an artery.

                He thinks he is keeping up a quick pace when an arm wraps around his abdomen and pulls him backwards, yanking him into a straight stop. Stiles yells in surprise and falls backward towards the ground. He is steadied by two arms rather than claws. When he looks up, he doesn’t recognize the human face. There, behind him, is standing a twenty-something year old man with short buzzed brown hair and green eyes. Out of process of elimination, he can only guess that this is the Alpha who had attacked him earlier. Stiles tries to run forward but the Alpha has a steady grip on his mid-section and keeps him grounded. The man forces him down into the dirt, avoiding his injuries, and glares down at him.

                “Don’t move,” He orders in a deep voice and Stiles thrashes out, kicking his feet and throwing punches. The man wolfs out once more and growls down at him, teeth centimeters from his face. He takes the punches and readjusts his grip, kneeling on Stiles’ lower legs and holding his arms against the ground, forcing Stiles belly-down into the dirt. Stiles turns his head to the side to breathe.

                “Please,” Stiles begs, not wanting to die a slow and painful death. To be honest, he would prefer the Alpha kill him now rather than having to wait for Derek to show up and talk him to his death. “You don’t have to kill me,” Stiles whines and tries to haul air into his lungs, having difficulty breathing with his face to the ground.

                “Shut up,” The man remarks. “Change of plans. I’m not going to kill you.”

                Stiles tries to take this as a comfort but all he’s reading into this is that Derek wants to be the one to finish him off. He no longer wants the Alpha to do the job for him. Derek is going to kill him directly and, to avoid retribution, he’s probably going to kill Ethan too.

                Stiles tries readjusting against the dirt but this only manages to upset his wounds more and the movement causes the Alpha to tighten his grip on his arms and legs. He can feel his skin turning slowly into a bruise in these areas and Stiles curses at his bad luck. He should’ve just stayed in the hospital and let Derek slip something into his IV while he was sleeping. The man was apparently by his side the whole night anyway. He had the perfect opportunity.

                _So why didn’t he?_ A voice asks. A primal part of his brain answers, _because he wants to put you through a lot of pain first._

                Stiles presses his cheek to the dirt and turns his head, looking back. He can’t see Ethan or Derek anymore so he can only guess what is happening. His only hope is for Ethan to take on the Alpha and get him out of here. He knows he is asking too much already though, as there is no way that Ethan can take on two Alphas without his pack and without Aiden.

                Just as he is about to give up hope, the grip on his arms and legs are abruptly torn away and he hears different growls flying over his head. Stiles presses down into the dirt before darting back up, seeing Ethan bleeding in front of him, shirt torn and crouching in front of him, teeth bared at an oncoming Derek and Alpha.

                Ethan grabs him around his hips and pulls him closer. He bends at the knees and Derek growls as Ethan shifts position and grasps at Stiles and all but throws him over his shoulder. Ethan takes off running. Stiles looks down and hisses in pain but he sees no human left in Ethan’s eyes. It’s all primal and animal and _wolf._

Stiles begs to be put down but rescinds his pleas when he can see Derek and the Alpha darting after him, catching up a short distance after every minute of running.

                “Stiles!” Derek yells but Stiles buries his face closer to Ethan, trying to escape the world for a minute.

                After two more minutes of running, of jumping over rocks and branches and bouncing off the bones of Ethan’s shoulder, Stiles is set down on the ground suddenly and Ethan stands in front of him.

                “Ethan,” Stiles protests. “They’re right there…” He points from the ground, holding his chest… hoping the bandage kept him from ripping too many stitches.

                “Get up,” Ethan orders, grapping his bicep and hauling him to his feet. “Run forward a few more feet and turn around the path. You’ll see a house. Go in, lock the door and wait for me.”

                “But,” Stiles begins to protest, his mind trying to process how hiding out in a house in the woods is going to deter two homicidal Alphas from killing him.

                “Do it,” Ethan yells back, his face a mask of unbridled fury and anger. He looks at Stiles with blood red eyes and snarls at him.

                “Will you be alright?” Stiles asks, trying to calm him down.

                It seems to work. Ethan stands up straight, rolling his shoulders back. He sighs and looks at Stiles

                “Don’t worry,” Ethan smiles and turns back into his human form, glancing off at the tree-line where Derek and the Alpha are emerging from the trees. “We’ll be fine.” He bends his knees and crouches down. “Now go!” Ethan yells and lowers himself closer to the ground.

                Stiles nods and listens, using up the last amount of his energy to sprint forward.

                Just as Ethan said, after a good minute of running and turning a corner, and after only turning around once to jump at the sudden onset of yelling, Stiles sees a run-down house in the distance.

                It seems completely out of place in the middle of woods and while it is in some state of disrepair, with shutters hanging loose and the paint peeling, it seems to be in much better condition than the Hale House. Stiles approaches hesitantly, constantly glancing behind him for either the Alpha or Derek. Stiles reaches towards the door handle and turns it, pushing heavily to get the door to budge open and inwards. Stiles walks in, looking around and is surprised by the interior.

                The place is actually well-furnished, with comfortable looking chairs and a sofa, along with a bare kitchen and a table in an opposite room. There’s a staircase leading upstairs and a trap door beside it, probably leading downward. Stiles closes the door behind him and locks it, checking the strength of the two deadbolts. Seemingly unsatisfied, Stiles looks around and makes a quick decision to rip open the trapdoor. Despite his legs protesting it, he climbs down the ladder he finds and descends into pitch-blackness. He wants to give himself the best chance of survival and this is the way to do it.

                Stiles feels his feet hit dirt after twenty or so rungs of the ladder and he nearly collapses to the ground in exhaustion and in pain. Stiles feels along the wall, trying to find a light-switch. He doesn’t find one, so he tries plan B and reaches up with his hands, his chest screaming in pain. His fingertips graze a string hanging from the ceiling and pulls down, wincing as a light comes on and illuminates the entire basement. He looks around and takes in his surroundings.

                The basement is plain, with a dirt floor and cement walls. The shelves are lined with various canned goods and there is a table in the corner with two chairs. Over to the side there is a small room and a worktable filled with tools of different sorts and planks of wood in different sizes. Stiles gets to work, his mind working overtime.

                He grabs a handsaw from the workbench and walks over to the ladder. He scales it again, stopping midway to shove down some tears. When he reaches the third rung from the top, he starts sawing away at the top of the ladder. When that side comes clear, he braces himself and starts sawing away at the other side. When that cuts through, he feels the ladder tilt backwards, falling. He stays on until he is close to the ground and jumps off, letting the ladder clatter to the ground. He glances up sadly at the trapdoor, fifteen feet above him.  If he’s going to die down here, his remains stuck here forever, he sure as hell is going to make sure someone is resting in death beside him.         

                Stiles drags the ladder to the side and shoves it against the wall.             

                He glances over the workbench and examines the tools. He doesn’t know how much time he has left and he is panting in pain but he grabs a screwdriver and slips it into his jacket pocket.

                While grabbing a shovel he wonders how injured Ethan is getting trying to spare him a few seconds. This day didn’t turn out as he expected. He never expected _Derek_ to be the one to put the hit out on him and he never expected Ethan to be the type of person to die for him in order to give him a few minutes to prepare an offense.    

                Stiles still can’t put all the facts together in his head as to how this situation conspired exactly but he’s much too concentrated on trying to stay alive. He can deal with the motives later. He grabs a bunch of matches from a relatively empty drawer of the workbench. Stiles sees a gas can in the corner and grabs it in his free hand.

                He walks into the small room in the cellar and sees another room full of supplies and food, stocked on shelves against the walls. Stiles drops the gas-can on the right side of the door, in the small standing space where the door opens. He heads back out into the cellar, striking a match. Sighing heavily, he lifts the shovel up and hits out the light, shattering the light-bulb and casting the cellar once more into darkness.

                Using the blowing and flickering light from the match, Stiles makes his way back to the small room and shuts the door behind him. He blows out the match and breathes deeply as his vision is completely wiped out, his hearing picking up the slack. Stiles shrugs off his jacket and throws it to the back of the storage room while he occupies the area right behind the doorframe, pressing his back to the wall. He holds his breath and picks up the shovel, holding it close to him as if he’s back on the field, wielding a lacrosse-net. He wills the pain away from his mind and tries to calm his breath down, tries to will his heart to slow. Both of these continue strong though, his breathing in short gasps and his heart fluttering uneasily in his chest cavity.

                Stiles waits. He can do nothing but wait now. He has no doubt Ethan is being torn limb from limb right about now as he awaits the arrival of his pack and pretty soon, two pissed off and slightly injured Alphas are going to come barreling into the house intent on killing him.

                Stiles feels a little better now, having prepared an offense. He shuffles in his pocket quickly and lights up the screen, swearing at his lack of service. He shoves it back into his pocket and wields the shovel.

                When the Alphas come down, he hopes they will lose sight of the lack of ladder and fall down straight to the dry dirt ground, hopefully breaking something. The second one, hopefully Derek, will see the Alpha fall down and jump down himself, unharmed, and come straight to the cellar door. He will catch the smell of Ethan’s jacket and come right to the room. When he opens the door, Stiles will hit him with a shovel and knock him to the ground. Here, Stiles will dump gasoline on him and light him on fire, crouching in the corner as the fire kills the werewolves. If he lives, and he’s not expecting to, he’ll reassemble the ladder and climb out. He’s not planning on the latter happening however. He has no plan at all for that happening.

                Stiles waits. He feels like he is waiting for hours in the darkness, with only the sound of his own heartbeat reaching his ears.

                When he hears the door of the house being opened slowly, he swears and presses himself closer to the wall in anticipation. Stiles waits as he hears the footsteps on the floorboards above, walking slowly over to the trapdoor. He only hears one set but he figures the second Alpha must be playing sneaky. He can hear the door creak open, the hinges grinding against themselves and squealing as the door to his hiding place is being revealed. He can feel footsteps on the first rung of the ladder. After the second step down, he hears a loud crashing and figures the intruder fell for his plan. Stiles holds his breath. He hears yelling and swearing.

                There’s a growl from low on the floor and he really hopes that there is now one werewolf down for the count.

                He can hear fumbling on the floor now and a dragging sound, the sound of thrashing limbs. There is another growl and Stiles is swearing mentally, trying to slow down his breathing. He doesn’t want to kill anyone, he really doesn’t, but he wants to stay alive enough to tell Scott and his father goodbye.

                Stiles grips the shovel handle tightly and wields it like a baseball bat, metal end out. He hears crawling towards the door. Maybe Ethan killed one of the Alphas before he went down, Stiles hopes.

                There is a sound of claws against the handle of the door and Stiles closes his eyes, squinting them tight at the thought of his next action. He can already smell the scent of burning fur and flesh in his nostrils and he flinches at the prospect of him becoming a murderer and arsonist all at once. After all, this is probably going to be a murder suicide but, really, fire is his best and only option. It’s the only way he can think of to guarantee the death of the Alphas. Stabbing them to death is too risky and leaves himself wide open for attack.

                The door is yanked open slowly and Stiles gets ready. He can hear snorting and growling and the entrance of a head in the doorway. Stiles takes his action and swings with all of his might, launching the shovel towards the attacker. The shovel makes contact with a loud crunching sound, the sound of bone breaking and Stiles redirects his trajectory to send the attacker to the floor. Satisfied with a heavy thud, Stiles drops the shovel and reaches towards the gas-can. The attacker was the size of Derek, at least. He’s glad it’s dark. He doesn’t want to see Derek’s expression right now.

                As he uncaps the can, he hears yelling and Stiles stops in his tracks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, you thought you were done with cliff-hangers?   
> Think again...   
> Well.. not so much. The next chapter is already written. Luckily for you my everything hurts from ATVing and almost dying several times (it was a mud pit and I hit a few fallen trees) so I had time to recover and write the next TWO chapters.
> 
> While you lovelies are reading this chapter, I'll be busy at work proof-reading the next chapter to get it up ASAP. I won't leave you on this cliff for too long and it's definitely going up before I fall asleep (It's midnight here)
> 
> Hold on tight and I'll spare you from the suspense soon! 
> 
> Also: I have a rough idea planned out for the Stethan (I like this ship name) fic. It'll be written when this is winding down and reaching the end (it's coming soon guys)


	8. It is Always By Way of Pain One Arrives At Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Stiles is set to take his stand against his enemies but his enemies may not be who he thinks they are. Rushing into the basement, Stiles comes face to face with the intruder to find.. (read the first line of this chapter!)  
> Somehow in the mix of all the pain and torment, Stiles finds time to relax and well... UNWIND with someone. 
> 
> Time for some warnings:  
> CONSENSUAL Almost-sex scene. Yup, there's a spoiler. Boo, you guys were expecting it anyway.  
> Violence and gore (Stiles has a shovel, what do you expect?)  
> and...  
> No that's it. It's of course male/male but you read this so you know that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, next chapter proof-read and posted.  
> Read away and I'll comment after. 
> 
> And my friend pointed out I never put a disclaimer on this.. but Chapter Eight is not a bad place to start.  
> Clearly I don't own Teen Wolf or any of the characters associated with it (Except the made-up Alpha) or else Sterek would be canon and Stiles would have so many romantic interests. Oh, and you'd be in emotional agony a lot.

“Stiles, it’s Ethan!” He hears and Stiles’ eyes widen. He re-caps the gas can and sets it down to the side. He digs in his pant pocket, feeling the matches. He strikes one and holds it out, surprised at the person on the floor.

                On the ground, sprawled out and bleeding from the face and other extremities, is Ethan. He’s panting hard and he looks surprised but relief washes over his face as he sees Stiles.

                “Ethan?” Stiles yells. He rushes over to the werewolf but Ethan just whines as he pulls himself to his feet.

                “You took out the ladder? Smart thinking but it was unfortunately directed at me,” Ethan sighs and fumbles around in the darkness. The match goes out and all is black. Stiles can hear Ethan leaving the small room and entering the part of the room with the workbench. Stiles holds his breath waiting. Ethan walks back, hissing in his pain.

                “Matches,” he orders and Stiles complies, shoving the matchbook into Ethan’s hand.

                Ethan strikes the match and from the burning light, Stiles can see him with an old gas lantern. He flips a dial and holds the match to it. It lights up quickly and casts dim light all across the room.

                Stiles can see his damage. Ethan’s face is bleeding heavily from a gash on his forehead and his nose looks bent in the wrong direction, a bruise forming along his eye sockets. Stiles’ eyes drift downward and he can see some claw marks on his upper arms and Ethan’s lower abdomen. Stiles assumes it’s from the fight. Ethan grabs Stiles by the wrist and leads him out of the small room. Ethan walks to the workbench and shoves the lantern down. He turns quickly around and reaches his arms out, He wraps his arms around Stiles’ back and pulls him in, holding him close to his chest. Stiles wants to complain about the fact that Ethan is bleeding all over him but he dares not, due to the fact that Ethan is bleeding because he risked his life trying to keep Stiles’ alive.

                Stiles leans into the hug and rests his cheek against Ethan’s shoulder, sighing heavily.

                “How are you alive?” Stiles mumbles, surprised at the turn of events.

                “You sound so disappointed,” Ethan laughs deeply, and presses his lips against Stiles’ forehead, right over one of the claw marks on his face.

                “Just surprised,” Stiles remarks, happily. He’s finally calm now that, based on Ethan’s lack of urgency, the threat from Derek and the Alpha is temporarily pushed aside. Maybe permanently, if Ethan managed to kill one of them. “What happened?” He asks.

                Ethan starts speaking but Stiles’ knees buckle, his body finally processing the pain as he collapses to the floor on his knees. Ethan grabs him tightly under the armpits and slows his descent, groaning at the added weight.

                “Easy,” He mutters. Ethan gently lifts Stiles up and moves him so his back is against the wall. Stiles readjusts his posture and puts his legs in front of him so he is effectively leaning against the wall, inhaling rapidly. Ethan sits beside him and grabs his hand, interlacing their fingers.

                “Unfortunately,” Ethan starts and looks over Stiles. “Derek and that other bastard are still alive.”

                “And your nose is broken,” Stiles looks at Ethan’s face and the blood pooling around the eye socket.

                “That’s courtesy of your swing,” Ethan laughs and reaches up. Stiles flinches as Ethan pushes his nose back into place, swearing at the sound of moving bone. “I’ll heal,” Ethan groans and stares up at the ceiling.

                “And the claw marks?” Stiles asks, assessing Ethan’s exposed abdomen and the wounds that are only just starting the knit back together slowly. The blood is still oozing out slowly.

                “They’ll heal too. Just more slowly than your damage,” Ethan smiles again. “I’m glad you’re alright.” Ethan inspects Stiles up and down. “You are alright, right?”

                Stiles pats himself up and down, checking his bandages in the dim light. He finds nothing bleeding but the stitches on his legs are coming a little loose. “I’ve been worse,” Stiles replies. “I’ve been worse yesterday.”

                Ethan grins and rests his head on Stiles’ shoulder, squeezing his hand.

                “How are we alive right now?” Stiles reiterates, not believing it himself.

                “This house,” Ethan points up to the ceiling of the basement. “It’s one of Deucalion’s pack houses here. It’s sort of like sovereign land.”

                “Meaning?” Stiles asks, not recognizing the symbolism of the house.

                “It means that if Derek steps foot on this land to come and kill you or me, he declares war on my pack,” Ethan laughs. “Not that we’re already not at war but this will guarantee the end to his entire pack.”

                “How did you get beat up if he can’t step foot here?” Stiles asks, his eyes narrowing.

                Ethan just chuckles and looks sheepish and ashamed for a moment.

                “I might have caved into the insult and attempts to lure me out and stepped over the line,” Ethan winces and shies away.

                “What else is new?” Stiles groans and closes his eyes. This is all just too much.

                “He can’t kill you directly anyway. If he kills you while I’m courting you, I can get someone to put him down,” Ethan hisses. “He probably hired the Alpha to kill you so it wouldn’t be pinned on you. He realized his plan just got demolished.”

                Stiles takes in all the information and still can’t believe what he is hearing. What reason does Derek have to put out a hit on him _right now? Why risk war with the Alpha Pack by killing Stiles?_

Stiles looks over at Ethan and sees the bruises lightening on his face, his nose healing and the blood stopping. 

                “Why?” Stiles asks and looks down at all his wounds. He’s honestly surprised his body has put up with all this torture and abuse.

                “Me courting you is a risk to him. If I win, you’re a member of my pack. You have details about him, his weaknesses, his pack members, his den location. He doesn’t want that get out,” Ethan explains and Stiles still has a hard time accepting this. It’s slowly making more sense but things aren’t clicking.

                _Why drag him to the hospital if he wants me dead? He could have just left me to die in the woods._

                Stiles thinks hard to his mind rests on the answer, _Scott and Isaac._ Scott and Isaac must have found the map and begged Derek for help. In order to not have his plan revealed, he was forced to save Stiles.

                Well his entire relationship history is currently based on lies, great.

                “Do you have phone service?” Ethan asks, picking at the wounds on his abdomen.

                “No,” Stiles shakes his head, pulling out his phone to check again.

                _Oh god, he has no phone service. It’ll only be a matter of time until Scott or his father find him missing._

                “At least you won’t have to deal with threatening phone calls or anything,” Ethan offers and Stiles just shakes his head.

                “My father will be worried,” Stiles mumbles and Ethan squeezes his hand again.

                “I’m sure Scott or Derek will cover for you.”

                Stiles is only mildly comforted by this sentiment. Sure, they’ll tell his father something to deter him away from the fact that Derek tried to kill him and Stiles is currently hiding out in sovereign territory but nobody besides the two of them in this basement know what is really going on.

                “Are we stuck in this basement?” Stiles worries. He never planned out this much. He fully intended to die down here, not be sitting on the dirt floor, injured and holding hands with Ethan. He actually prepared himself for Ethan to die as well.

                “No,” Ethan chuckles. “I’m just giving myself time to heal before I get us out of here,”

                Stiles just nods and Ethan groans and hauls himself to his feet, shaking the dirt off of his bloodied pant-legs. Stiles just watches as Ethan walks over to the side of the basement and picks up the sawed-off ladder. He turns it up the right way and leans it against the wall, pushing it down at an angle. Stiles can see the ladder rise into the darkness but it stops about two feet short of the end of the cut off portion of ladder. Stiles already prepares himself at the physical agony of jumping the gap in his condition.

                Ethan walks over and looks down at Stiles sympathetically. He sets the gas lantern over by the ladder.

                “I know this will hurt but we can’t stay down here,” Ethan murmurs and Stiles just nods. Ethan bends down and helps Stiles to his feet. Stiles stands uneasily and winces at the pain in his legs. Ethan leads him to the ladder and looks over at him.

                “Let me go up first and I’ll help you bridge the gap, okay?” Ethan asks. Stiles nods once more. Ethan ascends the ladder and throws open the cellar door. He then kneels down, sticking half of his body in the cellar opening and shoots Stiles a thumbs up.

                Stiles climbs that ladder slowly and, once at the gap, he looks up at Ethan. Ethan lays, belly down, on the floor and holds out both of his hands. Stiles grabs onto his hands and allows Ethan to pull him up to the remaining portion of the ladder. Stiles climbs up the remaining two rungs and climbs onto the floor of the hallway, breathing out all the panic from the ascent.

                Once on the ground, Ethan crawls over and holds onto Stiles, pulling him to his chest again, right into a tight hug. Stiles doesn’t fight it and caves in, letting all his worries from the day finally come to the surface. He should be dead right now. Ethan should as well but somehow they both made it through.

                “Come on, let’s find somewhere to rest. I’m going to wait for my pack to show up and take us out of here. I can’t risk another meeting with Derek,” Ethan mumbles. “I need to keep you safe,” Ethan mumbles and shoves his nose against Stiles’ neck, breathing in again.

                “Can I just lay here?” Stiles whines, not wanting to move anymore. Everything hurts.

                Ethan laughs and shakes his head. Instead of helping him to his feet, Stiles shouts in surprise as Ethan wraps his arms under Stiles’ legs and under his back and lifts him up, bridal style.

                Stiles figures it’s better than walking so keeps his mouth shut.

                Ethan carries him up the stairs and makes a sharp right, entering into a furnished bedroom all while laughing. Ethan drops Stiles on his back onto the bed and climbs next to him. He collapses on the bed himself and crawls over to Stiles, wrapping his arms around his abdomen and pulling him close until they are stomach to stomach, nuzzling his face into Stiles’ hair.

                With the adrenaline running out of his system, Stiles doesn’t have any energy to protest so he goes with the flow, tucking his forehead into Ethan’s lower neck and resting his free hand slightly above the Alpha’s hip. He shifts on the bed so his weight is off of his wounds. Luckily, Ethan is no longer bleeding and looks content, his eyes drooping shut slowly.

                “Can we sleep for a little while?” Stiles mumbles as the Alpha is falling asleep. Ethan just nods and closes his eyes, tightening his grip around Stiles.

                Stiles feels like he is out of danger’s way just enough to allot him a short nap. He follows Ethan’s lead and closes his eyes, pushing all the terrible thoughts out of his mind and concentrating on Ethan’s light breath against the top of his head. He will straighten out his plan for survival, his feelings, a way to deal with Derek after he wakes up. His body is demanding rest.

                Just as he is drifting off to sleep, Ethan pulls away and sits up. Stiles groans in protest.

                “Just grabbing a blanket,” Ethan chuckles softly and lifts up the folded blanket from the end of their bed and drapes it over the both of them. He settles back down and takes Stiles back into his arms, moving closer and closing his eyes, breathing out deeply. Stiles rests his cheek against Ethan’s shoulder and Ethan sets his on the top of Stiles’ head. In a tangle of limbs, they both fall asleep.                

                As he predicted, his sleep isn’t exactly restful .His mind wanders between scenes of him dying, Scott dying, his father being torn to shreds and his bones cracking, his body frame shifting underneath a pale moon.

                Somewhere between being turned and Scott dying, he feels himself being gently shaken awake.

                “Come on,” he hears the whining and Stiles blinks awake, seeing Ethan right above him with a concerned look. Stiles’ eyes open wide, looking around the room, trying to recall where he is and how he got here. The events of the past few days come rushing back and he looks up at Ethan in surprise. Ethan notices the distress and pulls him into a hug. “It was just a nightmare,” Ethan murmurs and rubs a hand against his back in a circular motion.

                Stiles pulls away and looks around.

                “The pack will be here soon,” Ethan responds, holding up his phone. He pulls away and sits on the edge of the bed. “I wanted to have you awake so you didn’t wander out of that nightmare and have your first sight be a pack of Alpha werewolves.”

                Stiles sits up and winces at his wounds before laying back down.

                “Thank you,” Stiles responds sincerely and looks over at Ethan, his clothes all wrinkled and the wounds on his chest almost completely healed. “How long have I been asleep?” Stiles asks and Ethan looks at his cellphone before answering.

                “Three or so hours,” Ethan responds and moves to the window to push aside the shades. The sky is growing dark outside the window pane and the sun is setting down into the trees.

                After looking out the window, Ethan walks back to the bed and takes a seat on the bed, looking down at Stiles.

                “What?” Stiles asks, looking up at the Alpha curiously.

                “Nothing,” Ethan smiles. “I just don’t mind waking up next to you,” Ethan grins and bends down, placing his nose against Stiles’. Stiles has been down this road before and knows Ethan’s next plan of action. He doesn’t move though and simply lays there, looking up at the Alpha. Ethan had just saved his life earlier, bought him time enough to escape and seek sanctuary. His hesitations about Ethan’s intentions are waning now and even though he’s not sure if he’s romantically interested in the other teenager, his disgust at the courtship is fading. So far, Ethan’s enemies have only been part of Derek’s pack and now Stiles isn’t on such good terms with their Alpha because, afterall, Derek Hale did put out a hit on him. At least here with Ethan, his death isn’t exactly imminent.

                “What are you thinking about?” Ethan asks.

                “How messed up my life has become,” Stiles responds honestly as Ethan rests one of his hands on Stiles’ right hip.

                “It happens to the best of us,” Ethan laughs and leans down, sealing the distance between the two of them and pressing his lip down against Stiles’.

Stiles doesn’t fight against it and closes his eyes as Ethan deepens the kiss, moving his body so he’s leaning over Stiles now. Ethan doesn’t lift up his face and just pulls away slightly to breathe out before he presses down again. Stiles can sense the desperation and tilts his face as Ethan nips at his bottom lip. Stiles decides to let go and press back, using this as a measurement of how he feels about the Alpha. The small gesture reassures Ethan and edges him on so Ethan deepens the kiss yet again and moves from his sitting position to lay himself nearly atop Stiles. He opens his eyes at the added weight and arches his back as Ethan slides an arm under his back.

Stiles’ mind is drawing blanks, trying to grasp at different feelings to sum up his mindset at the moment. Nothing is coming up, nagging at him, telling him to stop or continue; it’s just a feeling of Ethan against him, kissing him with such desperation and Stiles can’t help but to go along with it. With everything unpredictable happening, why shouldn’t this unpredictable moment happen? Stiles doesn’t really know what to expect anymore. He wants desperately to feel anything, to feel something other than pain or betrayal and this is an acceptable substitution. Stiles presses back, fighting against Ethan for power in the kiss but Ethan only snorts and pulls Stiles closer with the arm around his back. His hand on his hip edges up, pushing the hem of the t-shirt farther up his stomach. The hand traces bare flesh and Stiles shakes at the touch. Ethan pulls back on the kiss and looks down at Stiles with a small, content smile.

Ethan moves his lips down to Stiles’ neck and nips at the flesh lightly, his teeth grazing the skin but not scratching or drawing blood. Stiles gasps in surprise and presses down into the bed but Ethan just laughs and presses his lips lower on his neck, leaving a trail of touched skin down to his collar bone, pushing down on the fabric of his shirt. Stiles’ mind is still blank, his eyes closed and his lips pressed together. With a pair of lips against his collar bone, and a nose nudging into the base of his neck, he’s finding it hard to form any coherent thought processes.             

The hand that was pressing up his shirt shifts its trajectory and moves downward, pulling at the hem of Stiles’ jeans. Stiles moves his hands to grab at the side of Ethan’s waist, pulling him down to discourage his curious hands. Ethan isn’t so easily discouraged though and trails two fingers into the waistband of his pants, pulling down at the belt loop. Stiles is surprised by the motion and Ethan relieves his relentless assault of Stiles’ neck to smile up at Stiles. When Stiles focuses on Ethan’s facial expression, he can see his eyes have turned a light red color. It’s not the deep blood red he sees when Ethan is ready to engage in battle. Instead, it’s Ethan’s natural eye color with a tint of that red, just a glaze of his wolf eyes influencing his human actions. Stiles finds it oddly calming as opposed to frightening and grins back. Ethan is smiling full force now, showing all of his teeth before he tilts his head back to attacking Stiles’ collar bone. Stiles shivers a tongue flicks over the top of the grazed claw marks on his chest. It elicits a muffled chuckling from Ethan and the hand at his waistline moves to the button at the front of his jeans, unbuttoning it with practiced expertise. Stiles grips tightly at Ethan’s sides, causing the Alpha to stop and look up.

                He doesn’t say anything but gives an inquisitive gaze, allowing Stiles time to protest his actions.

                Stiles doesn’t say anything ,doesn’t know if he _wants_ to say anything so he just stares back for a good minute before his instinctual side comes in and he pulls down on Ethan’s sides, pulling him closer. Ethan takes this as a sign to continue and he lips return to Stiles’ neck, his mouth resuming with even more intense exploration. Stiles wonders if any of this is going to leave a mark. At this point, he’s not sure he’ll be alive long enough for any one besides a coroner to see the marks anyway. He shudders at this thought as Ethan takes this as an opportunity to slip his free-hand into Stiles’ pants, sliding against the front fabric of his boxers and squeezing lightly. Stiles gasps and moves his hips upwards into Ethan’s hand.

                _Courtships are sealed with sex,_ He remembers Peter telling him. He’s still attached to Derek and this might be a way to rid himself of that connection. Does he really want to be Ethan’s mate though?

                Before he can dwell too much on that thought Ethan’s palm slips downward and Stiles pushes his face against the side of his pillow, his cheeks beginning to take on a tint of red. Two days ago, he thought Ethan was trying to kill him. Now he has literally let him into his pants.

                “Ethan,” Stiles whispers, his eyes closing contently. It’s not a warning, not this time. He just wants to see Ethan, wants to judge his certainty.  

                Ethan leaves the assault of the spot on his neck below his chin to stare down at Stiles. His pupils are blown wide as he lifts his face to stare right into Stiles’ eyes. Stiles bites his lower lip as Ethan grins full force, squeezing gently with his lower hand. Stiles closes his eyes and leans into it. He wants to yell at his body for betraying him, for enjoying this while his mind is so unsure and for reacting in such _private_ ways. Ethan takes his reaction as a sign to continue and slips his hands out of the fabric, moving his hips in its place and pitching forward. Stiles groans and Ethan makes sure Stiles can _feel_ Ethan’s certainty in this. Ethan’s hand returns, slipping inside both layers of the fabric and ghosting along the waistband. He pulls up on the fabric and takes in Stiles’ expression.

                He slips his hand halfway in and trails fingers over flesh and Stiles reacts as expected, like a virgin. Just as the hand is about to dip downward, the two teenagers hear the door downstairs open suddenly. Stiles gasps and leaps up, looking like someone just zapped him with an electrical charge. He waits, expecting someone to run up the stairs and try to kill him again. He can’t process everything full force though, as Ethan still has his hand in the fabric of his boxers.

                “Ethan!” He hears a voice yelling and Stiles recognizes it as Aiden.

                Ethan growls and removes his hand, looking towards the doorway. His eyes turn from a glazed red to a full blown blood-red.

                “Every damn time,” Ethan growls, looking at Stiles sadly.

                Ethan takes in his surroundings and moves over to Stiles. Stiles watches hesitantly as Ethan untangles his limbs from Stiles’ and reaches down to re-button his pants that he was quickly un-buttoning with anticipation only a minute earlier.

                “Oh my god, I’m going to _kill_ him,” Ethan yells.  

                Stiles just realizes that the Alpha Pack dropped in at either the most convenient or inconvenient time. He still hasn’t decided which. They might have prevented him from doing a very reckless thing.

                Stiles realizes the scene should be much more incriminating but the fear of the newly arrived-Alpha pack quickly killed his excitement and replaced the warm feeling in his stomach with one of dread and impending doom.

                “Stay here,” Ethan stands and looks down disappointingly at Stiles. “I’ll go deal with them and shove Aidan through a wall,” His eyes are still that dead red color.

                Stiles can’t help but straighten his t-shirt and laugh at the predicament. He looks at Ethan pointedly.

                “You might want to take a cold shower first,” Stiles grins and presses out the wrinkles in his clothing.

                Ethan looks down and sighs. He points to Stiles. “That’s your fault,” He accuses with a small seductive grin before he turns on his heel and storms out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

                Stiles swings his legs over the side of the bed and runs a hand through his hair, trying to kick start his brain again. Oh geez, he almost just had sex with Ethan. He almost just became mates with Ethan. Just so he didn’t have to think about Derek’s betrayal and his impending death. Stiles stands and looks out the window, seeing one motorcycle outside and nothing more. It must just be Aidan here.

                _The Alpha Pack sent only one Alpha to protect us?_ Stiles thinks and is scared at the possible future of escaping the Den.

                Stiles reaches into his pocket to check his phone again but is still disappointed when he finds his phone registering no service and no bars. He rubs at the back of his head and sits on the edge of the bed, waiting for Ethan to return with news and possibly a plan of escape. It will be good to sit down and call his father.

                _Oh god,_ Stiles breathes out. _My father is probably freaking out right now._

He can’t dwell on the thought, the agony he is causing his father, for any substantial amount of time because just as he is about to cave and ask Ethan to send news of the Sheriff, someone rushes into the room and knocks the door off of the hinges, flying right toward him. Stiles makes out a blur of blood-red eyes and claws before he is shoved off the bed and into the wall, a hand wrapping around his throat and cutting off his breathing.

                Ethan walks in behind his attacker, his face a mask of worry and conflict. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In some way, I hear some of the die-hard Sterek fans crying at someone else besides Derek trying to touch Stiles. 
> 
> But this IS something I've had planned for a little while and I've been throwing in some foreshadowing in early chapters. Oh look, here's Aiden interrupting erm... things, again. 
> 
> Some of you might yell because this is semi-consensual but it's consensual. Stiles knows what he's agreeing to (in terms of sex). He's just a little conflicted right now. His feelings and such will be resolved in a heart-to-heart later. As far as he's concerned, Stiles hasn't even embraced the idea of there being a closet. 
> 
> Have no fear my loyal Sterek readers because... as you can see, things aren't as they seem and this Stethan marathon may soon be jeopardized. 
> 
> The next chapter is unfortunately, not complete yet so... some waiting time will be necessary. I have a music festival coming up too! (I'm excited) but this will go up as soon as possible. 
> 
> Comments appreciated. Tell me what you think is happening!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles faces down yet another death threat. Literally, he faces it down as Aiden pins him to a wall and threatens to end him. Stiles has to deal with a heart-to-heart with Ethan, on his deathbed, all while formulating a plan of escape. 
> 
> Warning: Are there any warnings? Violence... and talks of death!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait guys. This week has been absolutely hectic. I've had to sort out finances for college for next semester and I had my road test (I passed this time... after giving up for years)... So I wasn't entirely focused on writing.  
> Also, this chapter has been a beast to write. I had the hardest time writing Ethan in this. Aiden wasn't as hard but some of the conversations in this went through extensive re-writing and scrapping. 
> 
> Also, with everything falling into place in this, I had to draft the final plan for the ending. 
> 
> But you'll see where I'm heading. 
> 
> Here you go my patient readers,  
> Chapter Nine!

Stiles wonders how many times he will be on the verge of death before his untimely end ultimately finds him. So far he’s been attacked by an Alpha, running with werewolves, almost caught by Derek and right now, Aiden’s hands are wrapped tightly around his throat. His claws are brushing against skin and the threat of Aiden ripping out his windpipe is suddenly very real.

                Stiles gasps for breath and throws a pleading look to Ethan. He just doesn’t get the situation. He was so sure he had figured things out, and that Derek was trying to get him out of the way. Now that Stiles is seeking sanctuary with Ethan, he has no clue why Aiden is glaring him down with bright red eyes, his hands around his neck with intent to kill.

                “Aiden,” Ethan warns and steps forward, his eyes suddenly picking up a red overtone.

                “Walk away Ethan,” Aiden growls and Stiles grasps at the hands holding him into the wall. He gasps for breath and feels his vision growing hazy in front of him. “You don’t need to see this.”

                “You need to stop choking him,” Ethan yells and puts a hand on his twin’s shoulder. Stiles is really struggling to suck in air. Being human means being oh so _fragile._

                “I need to fix this,” Aiden amends and looks softly over his shoulder at Ethan. Stiles closes his eyes to avoid the situation and his inevitable death. Who is going to save him now?

                “You don’t need to fix anything,” Ethan corrects. “In fact, you’re ruining it,” Ethan yells back and Stiles feels a hand wrapping around the offending appendages.

                Stiles opens his eyes as Ethan is trying to pry apart Aiden’s hands, staring at his brother carefully while doing it.

                “If you mess up, he’ll kill you,” Aiden warns and pleads, his hands loosening slightly, allowing Stiles to haul in a shallow breath.

                “He won’t kill me,” Ethan responds calmly. “And that will be my price to pay. This was never in your orders.”

                “Derek courting him,” He glances at Stiles. “Messed up your orders.”

                Stiles looks between the brothers and tries to figure out where this conversation is heading but he is too concerned with hauling in steady shallow breaths to use his full mental prowess.

                “Then it is my duty to fix it,” Ethan amends. “Not yours. And I was fixing it up until you barged in here and pinned my mate to the wall,” Ethan growls.

                Aiden’s eyes widen and his hands drop from Stiles’ throat. Stiles falls to his knees and starts breathing in extremely deep. Ethan runs over and grabs Stiles, helping him to his feet and running a few fingertips over the already-forming bruise on Stiles’ throat.

                “Your mate?” Aiden asks, his voice low and sad. “So you claimed him?”

                Ethan places a few fingers on Stiles’ chin and turns it, inspecting the damage.

                “I was about to and you barged in,” Ethan doesn’t even look at his brother. Stiles backs away from the inspecting hands and presses himself against the wall, shying away from Ethan’s touch. Ethan sighs. “And it would’ve been better than what you have in store.”

                Stiles bites his lip and resists the urge to shout out crazy theories as to what exactly is going on in this situation. Aiden walks over to his brother and places a strong grip on his forearm.

                “Let me fix this for you,” Aiden raises an eyebrow and looks at Stiles. “I will do it quickly. He won’t feel any pain,” Stiles’ eyes widen and stares at Ethan and around the room, analyzing all the possible exits and escape routes.

                Ethan places a hand over Aiden’s. “I know you sent the Alpha,” Ethan responds lowly and Aiden looks at his brother inquisitively before sighing.

                Stiles starts to piece things together slowly. He begins to realize how much trouble he is really in and how much his ability to judge people has been failing him as of late.

                “It was supposed to end there and you weren’t supposed to get attached,” Aiden pleads, looking at his brother. “Your orders were to get information and break the courtship. With Derek in this, he would’ve had you killed lawfully. I couldn’t bear to stand back and let that happen,” Aiden begs. “I did it for you. We could’ve pinned his death on Derek and Deucalion would’ve rewarded you. Now,” He looks at Stiles. “He’s going to be angry. So just let me _deal with it,”_ Aiden moves forward towards Stiles but Ethan shoves him off.

                “Killing him won’t amend this,” Ethan warns.

                “It will,” Aiden corrects. Stiles backs against the wall and edges towards the window.

                Hell, a minute ago he was becoming intimate with Ethan and right now his homicidal twin is trying to snuff him out like a lit cigarette beneath a boot.

                “But it’s not right,” Ethan growls.

                “Since when do you concern yourself with what is right? You follow orders,” Aiden warns.

                “We are Alphas, not Betas,” Ethan places himself in front of Stiles. Stiles follows through with his gradual inching to the window.

                “We are Alphas but he is _The Alpha,”_ Aiden warns once more, no doubt referring to Deucalion.

                “Do you want to do this?” Ethan pleads, looking at Stiles sadly.

                “It doesn’t matter what I want,” Aiden yells. “It matters what will keep you and me alive and away from Deucalion’s wrath.”

                Ethan steps back for a minute and stares at his brother.

                “I am sorry for my unfortunate timing,” Aiden bows his head. “It would’ve been easier for you if you just had sex with him and left it at that.”

                Ethan nods and stares at Stiles, his eyes portraying sadness and loss.

                Stiles can’t stand the pity. He can’t stand the empty gaps.

                “So Derek never put a hit out on me?” Stiles asks, putting the pieces together. Like a jigsaw puzzle, the edges are together, the border is in line, but the whole picture still lays in fragments in front of him.

                Ethan winces his eyes shut and clenches his fists.

                “He already knows and it’s over,” Aiden looks at his brother. “It won’t work to mate with him anymore.”

                “Because you ruined it,” Ethan yells loudly, his eyes flashing red and his claws emerging. “It would’ve worked, we would’ve been mates and my orders would have been filled and you _ruined it._ ”

                “I’m sorry,” Aiden looks away, his posture becoming less rigid and forceful. “I really am,” Aiden pleads. “But this whole thing spiraled out of control. I’m only looking out for you.”

                “You’re looking out for me by killing someone I almost just had sex with?” Ethan asks and Stiles is suddenly feeling this profound amount of guilt and shame.

                “If you can look me in the eyes and tell me you almost had sex with him out of attachment alone, and not anything related to orders, I will think of a new plan,” Aiden bargains and Stiles stares at Ethan in suspense. He knows the answer though.

                Ethan hangs his head and puts a hand to the back of his neck. He sighs and Stiles can see Death signing the certificate with a steady and neat bone quill.

                “I had my orders but there is some attachment. We don’t need to kill him,” Ethan begs, a whine coming from low in his throat.

“Just leave,” Aiden pleads. “I’ll make it quick for him, I promise.” Ethan glances to the door and back to Stiles.

                “Aiden- please.” Ethan begs, moving closer to his brother.

                “If I asked you to choose between Stiles and me,” Aiden starts and Ethan’s jaw drops. “Would you choose him?”

                Ethan is silent for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re my twin. Of course not.”

                “Then you can’t expect me to pick him over you when I’m not even courting him,” Aiden argues and Stiles hangs his head, looking out the window behind him. The drop might actually kill him.

                “I’m not asking you to,” Ethan pleads. “Just let’s consider our other options besides murder. I can turn him. He’s valuable to us. I can give him the options of mating with me.”

                “And you’d be satisfied, mating for life with him… when your entire relationship is based on the fact that he chose loving you over death?” Aiden yells. “I won’t condemn you to that misery.”

                Stiles lets his legs fall out from under him and sits under the window sill, burying his head in his hands. He’s made a mistake and he’s going to pay the price with either his life or the rest of it.

                “I’m sorry it has to end like this,” Aiden empathizes. “I really am. But I don’t want you being forced into a mating under orders. I don’t want you killed because this spiraled out of control. Do you think I want to kill him after I’ve seen you smile with him?” Aiden yells. “No but I will if it means keeping your ass alive.”

                “Aiden,” Ethan pleads, desperately losing his case.

                “No,” Aiden shakes his head. “You know I have a point. I would’ve preferred you be upset with Derek at the thought of him putting out a hit on Stiles and killing him, rather than you growing attached and watching me kill him. I tried to keep it hidden but you just dug right into it,” Aiden lowers his head. “And they saved him. I won’t let the opportunity slip again. We’ll kill him fast and we’ll blame it on that Alpha and you can go back to new orders.”

                “Not when that new Alpha is working with Derek,” Ethan yells back and Aiden growls.

                “I’ll be honest and say that wasn’t part of my plan,” Aiden laughs sadistically. “But it worked out to my advantage. It’s exactly the thing you’d expect from a murderer. Now that they’ve been spotted together, there’s a connection to the two. When Stiles’ body shows up with evidence from the Alpha,” Aiden glances sadly at Stiles. “They’ll blame it on the other Alpha and it will be linked to Derek.”

                “And we can walk away freely? I’m supposed to play the grief card that my mate, conveniently from the enemy pack, was suddenly murdered and everyone else is to believe his other mate is the one to blame?” Ethan yells back, illuminating flaws in Aiden’s planning.

                “It’s not a perfect plan but if there isn’t an evidence linking the crime to you, they can’t kill you,” Aiden responds.

“And I’m just collateral damage?” Stiles finally speaks up and Ethan breathes in sharply.

“If things had worked out, I would’ve only taken information from you, not your life,” Aiden responds directly. “I don’t normally apologize for killing people but I am sorry.”

“You’re only sorry because this is hurting your brother,” Stiles responds back bitterly, resting his head on the wall.  He’s the walking dead, he might as well throw a few more jabs at the sleeping bear.

“It was working out fine until I saw you and Derek eating in the woods. So I planned this,” Aiden shrugs.

“And the Alpha’s other victims?” Stiles’ voice is laced with anger.

“I needed some way to pique your interest, to lure you here. They were solely Blake’s previous kills. We just planted them and put your father on their trail,” Aiden responds. Well, at least Stiles has a name to match to the face.

Suddenly everything is clear. The last puzzle piece fits in and Stiles gasps in realization.

“And that,” Aiden pauses. “Is the reason why I have to kill you.”

“Deucalion will be pissed,” Ethan speaks up. “He’s valuable. He has abilities.”

“They’re not worth enough for me to keep him alive,” Aiden shakes his head.

“Brother-“ Ethan pleads.

 “No, enough of your arguing. You can fight me, and you will lose and be forced to watch him die, or you can leave and spare yourself the torment,” Aiden tenses and his claws come back out, his wolf form emerging.

Ethan looks to Stiles and closes his eyes. There’s a low whine before Ethan reopens them and stares at his brother. “You interrupted us,” Ethan’s voice is dripping in sadness. “The least you can do is give me a few minutes to say goodbye to him. Then I’ll leave and let you do what you need to do,” Ethan pleads.

                Aiden looks at his twin and to Stiles before he holds up two fingers and walks out of the room, heading out into the hallway and placing the broken down door over the splintered frame.

                When they can hear footsteps on the stairs, Ethan turns to Stiles. Stiles quickly turns to the window and analyzes his risk of survival. In a flash, Stiles rips open the glass windowpane and pushes the screen out. Ethan reacts even quicker and reaches forward, wrapping two arms around Stiles’ stomach and pulling him backwards off of his feet. Stiles screams but Ethan wraps a hand around his mouth and stifles his yelling.

                His screams quickly turn to sobbing and Ethan pulls him away and lays him on the bed.

                On his back, staring up at Ethan, Stiles glances at the Alpha and his sobbing ceases. It’s a lost cause. No one will hear him. Once his noise ends, Ethan lifts the hand up.

                “Please,” Stiles pleads. He knows Ethan has some human side somewhere in him and that he knows how _wrong_ this is.

                Ethan drops his forehead to Stiles’ and breathes out. A few minutes ago, this would have prefaced a kiss. Now it just prefaces sympathy.

                “I’m so sorry,” Ethan places a hand on Stiles’ cheek but Stiles flinches away from the touch.

                “If you’re sorry, stop him from killing me,” Stiles begs.

                Ethan shakes his head.

                “I won’t tell anyone what happened.” It’s a last ditch attempt for survival.

                “You’re only saying that. However, Derek already knows and he’ll have me killed,” Ethan sighs and pulls away.

                “So you’re going to let me die,” Stiles states and Ethan shakes his head.

                “You know I was under orders to initiate a courtship with you to gain information on Scott and Derek, right?” Ethan sits on the edge of bed and refuses to look at Stiles.

                “Yes and I’m pissed. I was suspicious. Still am but when you saved me from Derek, I thought that there was honestly some good in you,” Stiles sighs and stares at the ceiling. His very few remaining minutes alive are ticking away.

                “There is some good in me. A lot of it,” Ethan shrugs. “But orders are orders.”

                “And you’ll follow them not matter what.” Stiles states and looks at the torn down door leaning into the room. Like that slab of wood, he’s nothing more than collateral damage.

                “Do you think I want you to die?” Ethan shouts at him, grasping at his forearm and gripping them tightly. “Every time I enter into a relationship and settle down, thinking that this can last, I realize it’s all just orders. I can’t be normal because of my pack. I can’t settle down and date someone. They always end up dying,” Ethan looks down at his grip on Stiles’ forearm and releases it. “Or hating me.”

                Stiles remains silent and rubs at his forearm, realizing how many bruises he will have when all is said and done.

                “Is it easier on you for me to hate you before I die?” Stiles asks, wondering how Ethan suddenly switched from seducing him to pushing him away.

                “Sort of,” Ethan grins, sadness lurking at the corner of his lips.

                “I can’t die yet,” Stiles argues. “I’m my father’s only kid, his only family. I’ve never sky-dived, I’ve never travelled in the desert via camel, I’ve never sailed a sailboat dressed as a pirate,” Stiles is drifting into nonsense. “I’ve never had sex. Ethan, you’re condemning me to die a virgin,” Stiles argues and tries his best to formulate an escape plan.

                “I tried my best to amend that,” Ethan grins and looks away, his face rising to a full-blown smile before falling.

                “So there’s no way I’m making it out of this alive, like at all? After all of this- you’re going to kill me? You’re going to let Aiden come into here and snap my neck and not think twice about me?” Stiles yells

                Ethan stands up and starts pacing around the room. “You say that like I can haul your body into the woods, straight-faced and bury you in a shallow grave…” Ethan yells.

                “I’m not even worth the six feet of work?” Stiles groans. “Seriously. You’re courting me, that’s like human engagement and I’m not deserving of anything more than a shallow grave?” Stiles leans back onto the bed.

                “Stiles,” Ethan interrupts but Stiles shakes his head.

                “And my dad is going to find me in the woods, beneath like a foot of dirt and plastic wrap and poppies and he’s going to sit there and sob because his only son, his only child, the last remaining part of his family is dead. He’s going to pull me out of the dirt and brush me off,” and Stiles is practically sobbing at this point at the mental imagery. “but he’s never going to forget the face I had when they killed me. He’s going to have to sit over funeral arrangement plans with a bottle of whiskey, and he’s going to have to sit there and decide between the different types of wood coffins and the types of stone for the grave marker and he’s going to lay in his bed knowing the house will forever be empty. At the funeral,” Stiles is on the verge of losing it and Ethan is looking on with his head bowed. “Him and Scott, probably Isaac and possibly Dr. Deaton and maybe Coach (if he remembers my last name and attends the right funeral) will carry my casket out of the church and my father will be sobbing. Scott’s going to try to cheer him up, telling him I was a great kid, but he’s going to go home and drink himself into oblivion and head into a spiral and maybe one day he won’t wake up from the stupor and who’s going to find him?” Stiles is trying to stop the tears. “And he’s going to visit Derek in prison or his grave and he’ll yell at him, asking him why he took his only child and son away and Derek won’t have an answer…” Stiles stares right at Ethan. If he is forced to feel this pain, so will Ethan.

                Ethan looks up and his face is nothing but sadness. He crosses the room and, despite Stiles pulling away, he wraps his arms around Stiles and just sits there.

                “Please,” Stiles begs. “If you’re going to kill me, don’t let them find my body. Don’t let my father find me, ever. Him and Scott, they’ll search. But they’ll always have that hope that I might still be alive. They can live in denial so long as they never find me. I’ve seen families who post like, these wanted posters of their missing children practically photoshopped to be aged like, twenty years and still ask people if they have any details. They don’t give up hope because they haven’t seen a body. You need to give my dad that hope so he doesn’t give up,” Stiles demands.

                “Stiles,” Ethan laments and pulls back to brush his lips against Stiles’ forehead.

                “Don’t,” Stiles pulls away and grabs the blankets of the bed, turning them over in his hands.  “You’ve killed people before and never thought about it. I shouldn’t matter much more than them. So just don’t. Just kill me and frame Derek and stop acting so sympathetic. You pushed me to be your mate and your brother has tried to kill me multiple times and all you want are Scott and Derek. So just don’t. Go get Aiden,” Stiles points to the door. “Let him kill me.”

                “I’m not going to let him kill you,” Ethan mutters and Stiles looks at him curiously.

                “What?” Stiles asks, confused.

                “I’m an Alpha,” Ethan starts. “But I’m not fucking heartless. You think I could honestly snuff you out after I almost took you back here and had sex with you? I didn’t know Ethan put a hit out on you. I was trying to get information yes, but that’s just how it started. Fuck, if we had just ended up mates I would be fine with that,” Ethan is back to pacing.

                “So you would’ve claimed me as your mate and left me?” Stiles responds bitterly.

                “No,” Ethan turns around and yells. “Aiden,” he yells down the stairs. Stiles tenses up. “I know it’s been like, ten minutes but just give me time!”

                Stiles breathes out.

                “Werewolves don’t ditch their mates,” Ethan reasons.

                “So you would’ve had Derek slaughter his pack and acquired Scott and then you would keep me as what, a trophy?” Stiles yells.

                “Stiles I know it’s awful hard to believe but you can’t accept it, even a little, that I like you for reasons besides orders?” Ethan begs.

                “No,” Stiles responds truthfully and Ethan stares at him for a moment. He seems to deflate after that statement, seeing the truth in Stiles’ expression.

                Ethan stops pacing and sits down on the bed. Stiles fiddles around with the bed sheets, nervously twitching about.

                “Well, my orders were shot from the second Derek starting courting you. I knew that. No matter what I did, if I did you wrong… he would’ve had me killed. But I stayed, doesn’t that say something?” Ethan offers.

                “That you fear Deucalion more than you fear death?” Stiles snorts. “Seriously, you’re not getting anything from me, Ethan. Your orders are shot. Just let Aiden kill me.”

                “I know my orders are shot,” Ethan snaps and his eyes turn red. He breathes out and turns away, shoving down the impulse. “This is really an I die or you die situation and I hate it.”

                “And your brother already decided,” Stiles responds, crossing his arms.

                “I want to find a way to make this okay,” Ethan whines. “For you to not die and for me to not get killed.”

                “I don’t want to die,” Stiles agrees, messing up the already disheveled sheets.

                “Derek will punish me for Aiden taking out a hit on you. Hence you see the problem Aiden is having with letting you live. If I don’t get information and my plan is revealed to anyone else, Deucalion will punish me.”

                “Killing me is really the only option?” Stiles reasons. His human instincts are screaming at him to fight until he dies. Even in a house with two Alpha werewolves, where the odds are stacked against him, his mind is telling him not to give up.

                “We have several options,” Ethan explains. “I can turn you and you’ll be part of my pack but that doesn’t guarantee you’ll be a faithful cub and won’t run off on me. I can make you my mate but that’ll tie you to me and I think you would rather choose death than be tied to me unlovingly for eternity…”

“Am I making it out of this without risk of enslavement or death?” Stiles asks honestly.

Ethan doesn’t say anything. He sits on the bed, hanging his head.

“Let’s be honest. I’m not the first person you killed and I’ll definitely not be the last,” Stiles reasons. “Just get Aiden in here and let him kill me.”

                “God damnit Stiles,” Ethan yells, standing up. “I’m trying to comfort you and you’re blazing a trail straight to your own death.”

                “Yeah,” Stiles shrugs. “That’s me. I’m hurt. I’m tired. I’m tired of being confused and betrayed and hey, I’m going to die anyway. Why delay the inevitable? Now, if you have any shred of feeling for me, you’ll ensure that Aiden kills me painlessly.”

                Ethan growls and looks away. “Do you want to die? Are you feeling particularly suicidal today or something Stiles?”

                “No, but life is feeling particularly homicidal and is doing it’s awful hardest to snuff me out,” Stiles sighs.

                Just as Stiles finishes his sentence, Aiden pulls open the door and stands there with his arms crossed.

                “Are you done figuring out what you want on your headstone?” Aiden pulls on a pair of leather gloves and flexes his fingers.

                “There is no other way?” Ethan begs, stepping slightly in front of Stiles.

                “Not if you want to survive without Derek ripping your throat out,” Aiden emphasizes and Stiles stands up from the bed and stares at the two brothers. Previously, when he has been facing down death, he was freaking out and sobbing, fighting until the proverbial ending. Now, he’s as calm and composed ever. He made a mistake. Now he’ll fall in the grave he’s made.

                “No, that’s cool,” Stiles holds his hands up. “I get it. I’m dying here. Let’s get to it. But yeah… in summary. Don’t let it hurt. Um… don’t let my dad find my body…. I think that’s it. Sex kills,” Stiles smiles and shoots a thumbs up before he lifts his head, exposing his neck to the pissed off Alpha.

                Aiden rushes for him, claws aimed at his exposed skin but Ethan runs in front of him and shoves him out of the way.

                “Ethan,” Aiden yells, dropping out of his shift.

                “Don’t rip out his throat with your claws. Do you want it to hurt? I’m fairly sure he doesn’t want his last image to be his trachea in your hands,” Ethan yells, looking back at Aiden and Stiles.

                “Fine, enlighten me as to how you want me to kill your boyfriend,” Aiden yells back and brushes himself off.

                Ethan shrugs back and shakes his head, pushing thoughts out of his mind.

                “Want me to break his neck? Would that be sufficient for you, princess?” Aiden snorts and laughs.

                “No,” Ethan sighs.

                “Stiles, how do you want to be killed? I’m a nice guy. I’ll listen to your preferences,” Aiden surrenders, holding up his hands.

                “Oh that’s such a nice gesture,” Stiles responds sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “What’s the least painful? I’ve heard drowning is peaceful minus the initial struggle…” He trails off.

                “We’re not drowning him,” Ethan glares as Aiden who looks back like someone offended him.

                “Second?” Aiden questions, impatiently.

                “Leave me in a car in a garage and let the exhaust build up. Carbon Monoxide, equally less painful,” Stiles nods, thinking back to his research into crazy topics.

                “No car and no garage here,” Aiden shrugs and Ethan growls.

                “I don’t like this conversation,” He remarks.

                “No one does!” Aiden throws his hands in the air. “Come here Stiles. I’ll break your neck really fast and you won’t feel a thing.”

                “If you don’t break it right, I’ll be permanently paralyzed and very much alive,” Stiles protests.

                “I’ll break it right,” Aiden growls.

                “You did snap that one guy’s neck that one time and he got back up and,” Ethan protests and Aiden shoves him over.

                “Shut up. He was a necromancer. Laws didn’t apply to him,” Aiden reasons.

                “Don’t shove me,” Ethan yells back. “He was still human. Frankly, your track record for killing people isn’t so great..” Ethan shrugs.

                Aiden growls and glares down at his brother.

                “Want me to change that with your boyfriend over there? How about I just toss him out the window and wait for him to bleed to death?” Aiden remarks evilly, his voice dropping low.

                Stiles presses himself against the headboard, warily eyeing the window.

                “If you kill him like that, you’re going out the window with him,” Ethan bites out, his eyes turning a blood red.

                “You know it won’t kill me,” Aiden frowns.

                “Oh I know,” Ethan grins manically. “But it’ll give me enough time to grab a knife from the kitchen and run down to you.”

                “So you’re threatening to kill me now, huh?” Aiden scoffs. “And I’m only killing Stiles to protect you.” He crosses his arms.

                “I don’t think Stiles should decide his own death or hear what we decide. It’ll make it worse. He’ll only get stressed about it.” Ethan’s shoulders drop.

                “And you don’t need to watch it,” Aiden agrees, nodding.

                “Conference in the hallway?” Ethan offers and Aiden nods back.

                “Fine,” Aiden walks over to the doorway.

 Ethan looks to the bed warily, staring down at the blankets and back at Stiles with a sad expression.

“I’m sorry for all of this,” Ethan drops his head.

“So I’ll be getting killed the next time you come back in the door?” Stiles responds uneasily.

“Yes so just close your eyes and lay on the bed and it’ll be over with soon,” Aiden remarks, leaving the room and heading to the stairs.

“You know that it wasn’t all lies right?” Ethan frowns and stares at his feet. “Had this worked out any differently, I would have said we were bound to be mates. But, like this… I guess I just didn’t get a good hand in this,” Ethan looks up at Stiles and his lips are tugged down to a deep frown,

 “You’re not the one about to be killed,” Stiles remarks. “I think I got a worse hand than you.”

Ethan shakes his head and closes his eyes. He tugs at his bottom lip with his front two teeth.            

“No,” he responds. “I definitely got the worst hand.” He walks out of the door and closes the wooden panel as he exits.

Stiles waits to hear footsteps heading downstairs before he makes his move.

When the resounding, descending thuds are heard, Stiles turns to the bed and the knotted up sheets and gathers them in his arms. Looking around the room, he spots the metal wrought headboard and knots the sheet around one of the bars. He tugs on it and leans against it, checking his weight against the strength of the fabric. Satisfied with the result, he tosses the remaining rope of sheet, the one he’s been carefully working on since Aiden let him go, out the window and smiles as it reaches a few inches off the ground. Stiles holds his breath for a moment and closes his eyes.

He lifts himself up the frame of the window and lifts the screen up, feeling the fresh-air against his face. This is truly his last ditch attempt to survive. If even one small thing is off, he’s going to die.

Stiles grabs the rope firmly and wraps it around his abdomen, looping a bit around his back and knotting it. He grabs the rest by the front and places his foot on the edge of the window sill. With a deep breath he leans back so he is dangling out the window and exhales as he realizes the blankets and sheets are holding his weight. He moves his foot to the wall underneath the window sill, a six inch drop and loses his footing. The sheets pull tight around his back. He leans against the sheets and dangles there. The headboard the rope was wrapped around moves slightly back, towards the window, making a small screeching noise as it drags the bed with it. The rope gains some slack and Stiles drops a few inches midair. He sighs as he is jerked upwards, swearing at the burning feeling his hands are currently experiencing.

The screeching noise is enough to kick Stiles’ brain into gear. He places his feet against the house and kicks off, swinging back to the wall and pushing away once more. He saw this on several army movies and, while he’s always been eager to try it, he would have liked to do it under different circumstances. For example, it would be a whole lot more enjoyable if he were doing this with an actual harness and rope, and without the threat of imminent death via two werewolves lurking at the edges of the house. Stiles kicks off a few more times and reaches the ground in a minute or two. He feels the ground underneath his feet and sighs. He quickly unties the rope from around his abdomen and stares up at the window he just descended down.

He hears a loud crashing noise and suddenly, poking their heads out, are Ethan and Aiden with furious expressions. With careful expression, he cans see something other than rage in Ethan’s expression. He can only label it as something close to relief and _knowing._

Stiles just _has_ to laugh at the scenario. Afterall, it is the last thing they expected from him and the near last that he expected from himself. His brain does funny things when he’s about to die.

Like right now, Stiles is taking off running into the forest as Aiden and Ethan quickly pull away from the window. He quickly rockets away from the house, putting as much distance between the werewolves and himself as possible.

He hears growling behind him, growing closer every second. He sprints as fast as he can, his chest heaving as it attempts to satisfy an increased demand for oxygen. His limbs seem heavy, as if they are slowing him down. It’s like he’s in a nightmare where, no matter how fast he runs, he is always standing in place and the monsters are as fast as cheetahs. Or well, wolves.

Stiles closes his eyes and hopes his planning is right. As he sprints past a familiar clearing he exhales and switches direction, heading to a dirt road and making a sharp left.

Just as he thinks of the shortcuts he can take back to his car, having a good minute or two head-start on the twins, he is grabbed from behind and pulled to a sudden stop.

Everything aches. His wounds are burning and screaming. He’s fairly certain he’s ripped a bunch of stitches and his bruises from being grabbed on the wrists and throat are starting to swell and ache. He’s caught. He’s done. He’s gone for. He turns around, prepared for a pair of teeth to sink into his flesh.

                When he turns around, it’s not who he expected. There, with their arms around his abdomen is Scott, fully transformed with eyes occasionally flickering between yellow and blood red. Noticing Stiles’ distress, he morphs back and stares at the woods with a concerned look.

                “Scott,” Stiles breathes out, happier than anything to see his best friend behind him and not one of two possible murderers.

                “Stiles,” Scott responds back, equally as relieved. He stares at his best friend like he’s seeing a ghost. The relief doesn’t last long however, as a howl rips through the woods and pierces Stiles right to the bone. He can’t help but to shudder where he stands. Scott perks his head upwards and his eyes go yellow. “That’s Derek,” Scott mouths. “C’mon,” He grabs Stiles around the wrist and starts running, pulling him behind him.

                “Is the… Where are,,,” Stiles can’t seem to form sentences at the moment and he’s huffing too heavily to illicit any coherent questions.

                “Yeah, the pack’s in the woods. Same with the Argents,” Scott smiles, turning around as he’s running.

                “I’m not dead,” Stiles breathes out, wincing as his legs scream at him to stop running.

                “No, you’re not and that makes me immensely happy but we need to _run,”_ Scott mouths impatentiently. He pulls him further down the path. Stiles only just realizes that they aren’t heading back to where he parked his car.

                Stiles obeys and simply follows after his best friend, trusting Scott enough to lead him to safety. He’s tired. He can use some time to shut his brain down for a bit.

                Eventually, it becomes clear to Stiles where they are running to. He sees the Hale house in the distance, looming there like a safe haven sanctuary or like a Church in medieval times. Even Scott exhales audibly as they make it up the front steps. Scott slows to a fast walk and shoves Stiles through the door. Stiles enters the pack house obediently and blinks his eyes several time to adjust to the lack of light. Scott sticks his head out the door and looks around.

                “Why aren’t we driving away to where there are witnesses?” Stiles demands and Scott shuts the door behind them, encapsulating them both in darkness.

                “Because right now, we wouldn’t make it to where there are witnesses. The Alphas won’t invade the pack house and we’re not as a pack at the moment. We need to wait for the others to return before we can get you out of the woods,” Scott sighs. Stiles can make out his vague worried look in the low light.

                Suddenly, Scott rushes forward and pulls him into a hug, breathing out heavily as they make contact.

                “I thought you were dead,” Scott breathes out in relief and Stiles stands there and taps his friend on the back several times. At least he’s getting some physical reassurance from someone that he _knows_ without a doubt isn’t trying to kill him.

                “I thought I was too,” Stiles admits and smiles, trying to ease the pain of the situation.

                Scott pulls away and he looks over his shoulder cautiously. The door opens and in walks the Alpha, Blake, looking casual and relaxed.

                “Packing incoming in a minute,” He responds, running a hand through his hair.

                Scott just nods and loops an arm around Stiles’, dragging him into the living room of the pack room. He shoves him gently down on the couch and makes him sit. Blake moves into the room but lurks in the corner, looking at Stiles with a cautious expression.

                “Are you hurt?” Scott asks, looking Stiles over head to toe.

                “Yes,” Stiles just nods, not feeling like lying.

                “Deaton will be coming as soon as the pack returns,” Scott reassures and Stiles nods, leaning back against the cushions. Absolutely everything hurts.

                “Scott, my father…” Stiles trails off, worrying about what his father thinks.

                Scott looks guilty and looks away.

                “There was no good way to explain what happened Stiles. You just left the hospital and took your car. He came to my house and just barged in. He knows you weren’t there. He was on an absolute rampage,” All the remaining color drains from Stiles’ face and he pales significantly. This is exactly what he doesn’t want to hear. “He thinks the killer of the other bodies got to you,” Scott looks over to Blake who frowns in the corner.

                Stiles starts panicking. His father thinks he’s dead right now. His father is out overturning the entire town to find him.

                “Scott, I’ve got to get to him… He’s probably,” Stiles starts heaving in and out, air becoming shallow.

                Scott reaches over and puts a hand on his shoulder.

                “It’s okay!” He reassures. “It’s fine. Derek has something planned out to tell him. Stiles just don’t freak out.” Scott sits down next to him and stares at him until he calms down.

                Stiles tries to will the thought out of his mind and luckily, salvation comes in the form of the pack barging into the house, slamming the door behind them.

                Isaac enters the living room first and presses himself against the wall, smiling at Stiles. Peter is next and raises his eyebrows, smirking at the pack with a full blown grin. He slides along the wall besides Isaac and leans back coolly. Lastly, Derek enters the house, anger and worry evident on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This reached like 15 pages typed out in 10 point font in Word so I had to find somewhere to cut it out. It was a difficult decision but I feel like this is a good place to separate various emotional scenes. 
> 
> So, I know some of you guys sent me your theories on this one and actually nailed it.  
> Aiden was behind setting the Alpha on Aiden and Derek was in the woods (well, you'll find more about this later) talking to the Alpha (Blake) diplomatically. Stiles misread it. The text was Aiden as well... again, you'll find out specifics next chapter.  
> And Ethan isn't totally innocent in this.. .he did trick Stiles into courting to gain information. Seduce & Deduce.
> 
> So as you can tell..the pendulum is switching from Stethan to Sterek. That was my plan!  
> But hey, this isn't the last time we see Ethan or Aiden.  
> There are many turns to come... and some fluff. Man after this, I really need to write some fluff. 
> 
> So tell me what you think. Read and Review for me, pretty please?  
> And dear god, I'm a terrible writer towards Stiles. I try to toe the line between hurting him and making him a bad-ass but it's not working so well.


	10. The Only Thing Worse Than Being Blind... is having Sight and No Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan and Aidan, much to their fear, are dragged in front of Deucalion to be reprimanded for their failures. Will the Alpha be merciful or will be give them the coliseum thumbs-down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an Alpha Pack centric chapter. It doesn't focus on Stiles or Derek. The main reason for this is because it's essential to the plot and for some extra character development ;) Read on.   
> Sorry for the long wait... I was really at a writer's block as to where I wanted this to go! Luckily I had a sleepover with HeartoftheMirror and she helped me tie up some plot issues. Many thanks for her creativity!

It’s an odd occurrence for a middle-aged man with no children and no identifiable family to sit alone at a children’s park, on one of the benches and appear to stare off into space. For some, this would be a little taboo and, to the even more cautious, a little creepy. The taboo nature of it seems to disappear, however, when the subject of mention is a blind man, not able to stare or peep at all. Comfort is added when the park mentioned is also empty, devoid of childhood laughter or from occasional screaming as children antagonize one another out of a skewed perception of friendship. The oddity cannot be overlooked though. A blind-man is sitting on a park bench as the sun sets in the sky, opposite of the way he is facing and some would say that this scene appears to be out of place.

                While the scene may seem odd, not many people will stumble upon the blind man on the bench in order to classify the image as such. He sits in silence, tapping his cane occasionally on the ground and staring off at the park, looking into the trees of the forest that border the slides and the swings, the jungle gym and the trodden down wood chips from many small feet. The scene aids itself to calmness as the blind-man sits still, breathing rhythmically and leaning back against the bench, his nose to the air as if he is relaxing to the sound of the birds, the sound of the wind as it blows against the individual long blades of grass.

                The serenity of the scene is disturbed and cast into melancholy and urgency as two teenagers are hauled out of the woods, held at the back of their necks by an angry woman. To add a supernatural element, she’s got bright red eyes and a strong clawed grip on the back of the necks of the two, teenage twin captives. The twins aren’t fighting, aren’t fidgeting in the hold or doing anything in their power to break away or escape. Instead, they sulk, shoulders slouched and hang their heads, walking towards the blind-man with skittish steps. The woman is standing strong, her head held high and towards that occupied park bench, a glint of some overshadowed pride in her eyes. While the two twins walk with caution and a weighing sense of inevitability, the woman walks with confidence.

                The blind man seems to notice the three new arrivals because he doesn’t shift or move positions. He lowers his nose down to normal level and smiles, showing all of his teeth to the incoming visitors.

                _My, what big teeth you have!_

He’s been expecting this visit. Perhaps his very motivation for coming to this park, and sitting alone in serenity on this very bench has been this exact meeting.

                As if a switch has been flipped, the calm façade falls and the tooth-showing, seducing grin falls to a frown, the corners of his lips tugging downward. The two twins are hauled over in front of him and the confident female shoves them down to their knees, setting the teenagers down at the blind-man’s feet. He clicks his tongue against the top of his mouth and shakes his head. The woman moves out of scene, stepping away from the twins and moving herself behind the blind man, standing her ground as a bouncer would in front of a club.

                They sit in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. Even the trees and the blades of grass don’t sway as much as they were before, standing still in the presence of an impending dangerous situation. The blind-man clears his throat and moves his head down so his line of sight, or what should be sight, is focused directly on the left twin.

                “I’m upset,” He speaks, shaking his head. “But you knew that I would be.”

                The twins exchange a solemn glance between each other before staring up at the blind man.

                “We never expected Derek to protect Stiles by counter-courting him. It foiled Ethan’s plan,” The one on the right speaks, his head hung-low and his hands clenched into fists on his lap.

                “And you remedied this how?” The blind man frowns, looking to the left.

                “We figured the only way to amend the situation would be to dispose of the kid and pin his death on Derek. After that, we would be able to enact our justice. Two birds with one stone,” The twin on the right speaks once more.

                “We?” The blind man asks, sounding skeptical of his own question.

                “Me,” The one on the right hangs his head even lower, “Ethan didn’t know until the very last minute. I was only trying to protect him.”

                “So, instead of coming to me,” The blind man puts his hands over his chest, pointing to himself, “You decided to amend the situation yourself,” His voice is still steady. “So you took it into your own hands to end an innocent life without running the plan by me. Not only did you plot this without any forward thought as to how this would affect our plans here, you invited an enemy Alpha into the territory we are inhabiting and promise him a place in our pack should he do your dirty work,” He goes back to shaking his head. “Have I misinterpreted any of the events that have happened thus far?” He asks, his voice still level.

                The twin on the right gulps, the saliva hitching in his throat before he forces it down. He licks his lips and scrunches his eyes shut. He takes a deep breath before he speaks.

                “I meant to wipe him out as soon as he eliminated my threat. In retrospect, it was poor forward thinking.”

                “It was no forward thinking,” The older man interrupts and finally shifts his position, leaning forward so he’s close to the twin on the right. “You have no power, no _authority_ to tell other Alphas that they can be added to our pack if they do your work,”

                “I wasn’t going to honor..” The twin starts but he is cut off once more.

                “If you do not honor your agreements, future agreements can’t be relied upon,” The older man shakes his head and sighs.

                “I was trying to protect Ethan. His orders were shot. I was afraid… that you might…” The twin on the right turns his head and stares at his brother, sadness creeping across his features.

                “That I might kill Ethan for failing to follow orders, for not carrying his weight in this pack? Perhaps it would have spared you the failure, the betrayal, had you simply let me punish him,” The man starts tapping away at his cane again, hitting the white end against the ground, letting it push up dirt with every collision. “Then I would have had only one Alpha to punish,” He glances at Ethan, pushing the descending dark sunglasses back up his nose.

                “Please don’t kill Aidan,” Ethan speaks hanging his head, clenching his fists on his lap and shaking. “He was only trying to cover up my mistakes. This whole thing spun out of control.”

                “Yes,” The older man speaks again, nodding his head. “It did spin out of control. Had you come to me after Derek starting courting Stiles, instead of your brother concocting a mastermind plan to resolve us of a certain Alpha problem, we wouldn’t be here. We would be sitting down as a Pack and considering our options and our next plan of attack. Now, I am trying my hardest to do damage control. We have two angered Alphas against us, you messed with Derek’s courted and he has proof and currently, the police department are following up on a trail of murderers relating to your Blake,” He points at the twin on the right with his cane, the tip of it coming a few centimeters away from his nose.

                “I made a mistake,” Aidan speaks, his voice full of sorrow and doubt and finality.

                “You made a huge mistake. If I didn’t know who did it, I would have assumed this is the type of mess an Omega would make. It’s reckless and you held no regard for my authority as Lead Alpha or for the safety of the rest of your pack, including your brother,” The man stands up and straightens his shirt. He bends down and meets eye to eye with Aiden, his face expressionless. “Give me a good reason as to why I shouldn’t rip out your throat for your disobedience. Or better yet,” he glances to the left. “Rip out your brother’s throat under your watchful gaze.”

                “Because with Ennis gone, you need us in the pack,” Aidan responds, his voice low and concise like this exact answer has been thought out well before this conversation.

                The older man shakes his head and sighs, standing up and away from Aidan’s face. He moves back until his knees touch the back of the park bench, at which point he falls back into the seat.

                “So you think I’ll forgive your insubordination and betrayal because of necessity?” He asks, his voice smooth and dripping with anger.

                “Not forgive,” Ethan intervenes to ease the tension of the situation. “We do not expect forgiveness. We merely request that you not kill us because of the problems we’ve caused.”

                Aidan looks at his brother with a small, appreciative smile.

                “There are a trail of bodies unaccounted for at the police station. You attacked the courted of another Alpha which could, in turn, call in The Watchers to enact revenge. You’ve left a mess at my feet like a bunch of pre-potty trained puppies. What are you expecting to do with all of this?” He asks, his voice holding some weird sense of curiosity and sadism.

                “Deucalion, If it’s not too late to start,” Ethan speaks diplomatically. “We would like to refer to your good judgment for that one. We’ve clearly demonstrated that we are so far out of our league here.”

                “Indeed, you are,” Deucalion nods. “Not something becoming of an Alpha werewolf. Alphas are supposed to be images of good judgment, of forward planning, of plotting and protecting pack. You fell short of that. You missed the race and for the inconvenience you caused, I cannot forgive your grievances. You understand this,” He asks, but it’s more of a statement. A demand for acceptance. Aidan and Ethan both nod, a gesture out of habit before both audibly speaking in acknowledgment.

                “We understand,” Ethan swallows. “We only ask for our lives and we will lend ourselves to whatever mission you may create to fix this.”

                “You speak diplomatically but this wasn’t your mess alone,” Deucalion nods his head to where Aidan is kneeling. “I’ve heard that, had you been left alone to your own devices, you would have Stiles as your mate at this moment. Which, by the way, is still against orders.”

                “I understand that,” Ethan nods. “But as the mission was botched, I was looking for some way to save it. You told me before that Stiles was a person of interest, that he held desirable skills. Rather than kill him, I figured I’d incorporate him. He’s not someone that I would want killed,” Ethan laments, recalling the events of the past few days, his experiences with Stiles.

                “And while against orders, it was better than that skewed plan Aidan concocted. I’m not commending you however. What of Stiles, Ethan? Do you hold some attachment to him?” Deucalion smiles.

                “I breached and broke courtship the second I refused to protect him against Aidan,” Ethan laments.

                “That does not answer my question.”

                Ethan sighs and looks at Aidan, who offers no help and simply shrugs.

                “I initiated a courtship out of orders and held no feeling for him originally but he’s,” Ethan smiles. “He’s someone that can grow on you and I sympathize with his situation.”

                Deucalion doesn’t say anything and only tilts his head.

                “Yes, I still hold some attachment to him,” Ethan answers the Alpha’s question deliberately. “But it’s nothing that will supersede my dedication to the pack.”

                “No, I suspect not,” Deucalion remarks. “You’re not the only one with an attachment to him.”

                Ethan growls and shakes his head quickly, realizing his error.

                “No, Derek is quite attached to the kid as well. He put a detail on him in the hospital and bargained the Alpha’s life for Stiles’ safety,” Aidan looks away, suddenly ashamed of his own actions.

                “It might be a power play though. He was clearly scorned by the fact that I invaded his pack and courted one of Scott’s pack mates without his permission,” Ethan reasons.

                “No,” Deucalion shakes his head with a sad smile. “Once upon a time, Derek Hale fell in love. I suspect this may be the case again.”

                “So all we’ve done is angered him…” Ethan trails off, sighing in defeat. They blew everything to hell.

                “If you think I’m not punishing you harshly because I need you, you’re wrong,” Deucalion smiles, the toothy-grin coming back full force. “I’m not punishing you harshly because you’ve succeeded in your orders. I asked you to court Stiles for information on the pack. You delivered.”

                Aiden and Ethan look at each other with skeptical, surprised looks.

                “I don’t understand,” Ethan asks, his voice shaking.

                “We now know the lengths Derek will go through to keep Stiles safe and out of harm,” Deucalion continues to grin. “One would consider that a weakness.”

                The twins give it a moment to let the scene set in. Shortly after, Aidan is grinning along, showing all of his teeth. Ethan looks back between his brother and leader, and slightly back to the woman who remains stoic behind the scene.

                “Expect punishment however,” Deucalion stands and turns his back on the two teenagers. “You caused collateral damage beyond what I expected and it is an inconvenience for me to clean up after you two. If you continue being reckless, I will put you down for the sake of saving the pack. If you do not abide by my orders, I will cast you out. I will ensure you are stripped of your Alpha powers so you’re left with nothing but each other, a teenager with angry rage and blue wolf eyes,” He nods back towards Aidan’s angle, “and one would convinces himself all the time that he’ll never have them,” He looks back at Ethan. “Now go lay low while I clean up after your mess,” Deucalion states, a strict order.

                “Yes sir,” Ethan stands and pulls his brother along with him, heading back towards the woods.

                “Do you want us in the pack house anymore?” Aidan asks, his voice full of worry. Deucalion stops walking and taps his cane against the ground.

                “Did you decide to leave and cease to be pack anymore?” Deucalion inquires.

                “No,” Aidan shouts. “Never.”              

                “Then I suspect I’ll see you two tonight,” Deucalion remarks and continues his pace, the woman following after at his side.

                “Thank you,” Ethan shouts and glares at his brother, pulling him back into the forest line.

                They keep their heads low along with their voices until Deucalion falls out of view and until the forest line swallows them, covering them in the disguise of foliage and darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter because, while many of my chapters focus on dialogue, I loved being able to describe the setting in this and Deucalion is really an interesting character to write. He's got many complexities and he demands respect.
> 
> Don't worry though, I won't keep you without Derek or Stiles moment for too long, I'm doing a dual chapter update again so the next chapter will be up as soon as I can post it (REALLY SOON).


	11. A Sad Puppy Lost in the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're back with Stiles and Derek, along with the rest of the Pack. Stiles has done some damage to his wounds and they need to discuss a next plan of attack. A little Hurt/comfort but not too much because, after all, this IS Beacon Hills and nothing stays mellow for too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wohoo! I'm back for a dual chapter update. Here's the eleventh chapter (this is suddenly becoming a monster. It's 110 pages typed out)
> 
> We're getting back to Stiles and Derek now because I can't leave you all without Derek's reaction.  
> So here you have it, Chapter Eleven!

As soon as the Alpha enters the room, the rest of the pack falls silent. Derek paces in the room a little while before rubbing the back of his head and turning to Stiles on the couch.

                “I have yet to figure out if you’re insane, suicidal or just stupid,” Derek shrugs, sighing exasperatedly and staring up at the ceiling with a toothless, desperate grin.

                “I like to live life in a constant combination of those three,” Stiles remarks weakly. His throat is beginning to grow sore from the previous choke hold of Aidan. “Living life on the edge.” He finishes.

                Derek looks at him like he’s sprouted a second head or turned purple.

                “You ran off into the woods, escaping from the hospital without permission or signing out and you ran straight into the arms of the person trying to kill you,” Derek lectures.

                “Think of how it looked from my perspective,” Stiles yells back, suddenly very angry and exhausted at this whole situation.

                “How did it look?” Scott looks curious, staring carefully between Derek and Stiles. Stiles shakes his head.

                “I ran into the woods because I would worried you and Ethan would go head to head in a death match because you were both out looking for that bastard,” He looks at Blake pointedly. “I figured I could at least calm everyone down and prevent a death or two.” Stiles rubs at his throat sadly.

                “I wouldn’t have killed him, Stiles” Derek scoffs. “Well, I wouldn’t have at the time. Now, I’ll probably kill him, rightfully,” Stiles groans and sinks into the couch.

                “What made you run away with Ethan?” Scott asks, suddenly very curious at the turn of events.  

                “I saw Derek talking to Blake,” Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t know… It was just the right timing, I was confused,” Stiles places a hand over his chest, where his older wound is located. The rest of the pack is staring at him sadly. “Ethan convinced me that Derek was working with Blake. That he put a hit out on me because I knew too much about the pack, that I was a risk to your safety if I fell into the Alpha Pack’s hands.”

                Scott stares at Stiles sadly and frowns, looking down at the ground.

                “Why didn’t you like… come to me?” Scott inquires. “I can understand if you didn’t trust Derek,” Derek glares at the teenager with an intense fury. “But you know you can trust me.”

                Stiles smiles weakly at him. “I know. It was just all a blur and a rush and a mess of confusion,” Stiles freaks out. “Derek and Blake started chasing after me and I thought they were going to kill me and Ethan seemed like my best chance of survival,” Stiles shrugs. “Terrible choice that was.” He mopes and closes his eyes.

                “Stiles,” Derek finally speaks instead of Scott. “I was talking to Blake because I knew he was hired. I figured talking to him was better than holding my claws to his throat and threatening to kill him. Not that I didn’t,” He glares at the Alpha in the corner. “I wanted information. When I found out that Aidan was the one who put the hit on you, I chased you to get you out of Ethan’s clutches.”

                “I know,” Stiles mopes even further. “I know, I was stupid.”

                “And you followed him to a house, probably one of the only few places that we can’t get you, and then what happened?” Derek asks, walking over to the wall by Isaac and leaning by it.

                Stiles’ eyes widen at the memory and he turns his head away, burying it into his arms. He takes a minute to compose himself. 

                “Nothing, we just slept until Aidan showed up which was…. Entirely unpleasant,” Stiles reaches his hand up to rub at the forming bruise on his throat.

                Derek narrows his eyes and looks around the room, staring at his pack. “Everyone out. Isaac and Scott, keep an eye on Blake,” He orders, staring at Stiles.

                “But Deaton is on his way,” Scott argues, looking at Stiles warily.

                “Then you’re welcome back in here with him when he arrives,” Derek growls and nods his head towards the door. He keeps his gaze fixed on Stiles, nostrils flared.

                Scott, Isaac and Peter exchange a few glances before Scott rises from his seat and shoots Stiles a sympathetic glare. He walks with the pack out the door and they drag Blake with him, keeping a wary eye on the killer Alpha.

                When the room is vacated short of Derek and Stiles, an uncomfortable silence building between the two, Derek turns his back on Stiles and sighs.

                “I’m guessing that this is going to jump into a private conversation that I’m going to be terribly uncomfortable with,” Stiles speaks up, yearning to break the silence between them.

                Derek turns around and his demeanor is less tight, his shoulders slouched and his eyes empty and devoid of emotion.

                “Did you sleep with him?” Derek asks, crossing his arms and eyeing Stiles carefully.

                “What?” Stiles yells before he realizes his outburst and lowers his head. “Why does everyone assume I’m sleeping with either you or Ethan? I swear, that’s the only conclusion you guys jump too...” Stiles rambles, trying to hide his embarrassment.

                “Because you smell like him and…” Derek winces at his next word. “Arousal.”

                “Okay,” Stiles puts his hands out. “Okay, no. We’re not going there with this conversation.”

                “You think I want to?” Derek yells. “I just need to know. If you slept with him, you’re his mate now. You’re his pack. I can’t protect you if you’re his mate.”

                “I didn’t sleep with him,” Stiles replies lowly, staring at Derek with a glare. He really doesn’t want to go on with this conversation. He doesn’t want to address the many mistakes he has made these past few days.

                Derek breathes a sigh of relief.

                “So the smell…” Derek questions and Stiles groans and falls against the couch, pressing his face into the cushion and trying to smother himself. After a minute of really uncomfortable silence, Stiles turns his head to stare at Derek, at which point, the Alpha is looking at his with a raised eyebrow.

                “I was confused,” Stiles flails, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

                “You’re always confused. What did it cause this time?” Derek asks with a small grin.

                “I didn’t sleep with Ethan,” He establishes from the start. “But…” Stiles trails off, swallowing.

                Derek pauses for a moment and hangs his head.

                “But you almost did,” Derek doesn’t phrase it like a question, like a guess. It’s a direct statement followed by a direct sigh.

                “Aidan rushed in and ended it by trying to kill me,” Stiles finishes, figuring it is in his best interest to not deny anything that can potentially get him killed in the long run.     

                Derek doesn’t say anything, letting the room fall once more into silence. He looks at Stiles, the bruise on his throat, the regret building up in his facial expression and he runs a trembling hand over his face.

                “Today was just really bad,” Stiles laments and Derek nods.       

                “I know it doesn’t seem like it with the Alphas moving in,” Derek starts and looks around the house. “But you can trust pack. And even if you can’t trust me, you could have at least trusted Scott.”

                “I know,” Stiles admits and feels stupid at the recent turn of events.

                “It could have ended up worse,” Derek admits, trying his hardest to lighten the situation. “You’re alive. We’re not at active war with the Alphas, well… we’re not even more at war with the Alphas than we were before.”

                Stiles grins sadly. “You had to make a deal with that asshole,” Stiles nods his head towards the door leading outside, where Blake and the rest of the pack are probably waiting for the conversation to be over.

                “It kept you alive,” Derek frowns and shrugs.

                “What are we going to do from here on out?” Stiles asks and Derek groans and walks over, sitting on the couch next to him and looking him up and down.

                “We have Blake as a witness towards Ethan’s pack taking out a hit on my courted. All I have to do is make a call and the whole issue could be out of my hands and into the hands of The Watchers,” Derek leans against the couch and looks at Stiles empathetically.

                “And they’ll what… kill them?” Stiles asks, not understanding the situation or who exactly The Watchers are.

                “I mean, they’re not assassins,” Derek clasps his hands in front of him. “It’ll be a process. Like a trial and if they’re found guilty, and it’s punishable by death, they will do away with them. If it’s not… and it’s tricky because Ethan isn’t directly the one who took out the hit, they’ll decide what to do from there.”

                Stiles contemplates the situation.

                “Is that the best to do?” Stiles asks, not liking the sound of the situation.

                “Not really,” Derek rolls his shoulders back and looks at Stiles. “It undermines my authority as an Alpha to enforce protection over my mate. Also, I really don’t want to invite The Watchers on my territory. Even my mother was once wary of them,” Stiles leans back at the mention of Derek’s reference to his mother, now intensely interested in the conversation. “Peter too. If I’m guilty of any crimes and they find it, I could be in trouble.”

                “So what are they?” Stiles asks, trying to understand the basics of this group.

                “You know how the hunters are like assassins of our group?” Stiles nods. “The Watchers are more or less the police. They’re ruthless but they’ll do whatever it takes to keep werewolves a secret from society.” Stiles nods again.

                “So like the Volturi in Twilight?” Stiles asks with a smile and Derek’s face drops to a scowl. He points to the door.

                “Get out. I don’t accept that reference in my house,” Derek feigns seriousness and Stiles bursts out laughing.

                “Cheesy references aside, is that more or less it?” Stiles asks sincerely.

                “Yes,” Derek nods. “I’d rather deal with this situation myself though. Calling them in is like calling the police while you have warrants out for your arrest.”

                “So, no Watchers?”

                “No Watchers,” Derek nods. “I’ll deal with this somehow.”

                “That brings up something interesting and panicking,” Stiles holds up a finger and his face turns strained. “How am I going to explain my disappearance to my father?” Panic sets in again.

                Derek just smiles he opens his mouth to speak but there is a knocking on the door. Derek perks up and looks around, his senses on full alert.

                “Come in Scott,” He yells and Stiles groans as Scott and Deaton come into view.

                “Stiles,” Deaton greets and Stiles just smiles guiltily. “I have to say, I’ve never needed to make more than one house call for even a pet before.”

                “Lucky me,” Stiles groans as the Doctor walks over and sets a medical kit on the floor. Scott just smiles at his best friend. Derek makes no indication that he’s going to get up and move off the couch.

                “Thank you for this,” Scott looks at his boss and looks a little guilty at the thought of taking up his time and services.

                “No thanks needed,” Deaton smiles and opens up his kit. “So Stiles, what have you got yourself into?”

                “Besides the normal life-threatening situation that I find myself in as of recently,” Stiles shrugs with one shoulder. “Nothing new. Except well, I escaped from the hospital and ran through woods, possibly ruined my stitches and got tackled into the dirt… Then proceeded to run again back here. It’s such a relaxing day,” Stiles mutters and glares at Derek who replies with nothing more than a snarky glare.

                “Well, let’s check that out now, shall we?” Deaton smiles and digs through his kit, pulling on a pair of gloves.

                Stiles looks around the room before rolling his eyes and pulling off his shirt slowly, wincing as he lifts his hands above his head and irritates the stitches on his chest. The bandages underneath show no signs of blood or ripped stitches but, after his excursion in the woods and excessive exertion, he can’t be too sure. He leans against the couch, and closes his eyes and Deaton leans forward to peel away the bandage. As soon as the corner of the tape is pulled clear, Stiles can smell the strong scent of antiseptic ointment. He wrinkles his nose and turns his head towards Derek who has also, undoubtedly, caught the scent.

                Deaton turns his head in curiosity and finishes pulling off the rest of the bandages.

                He pokes gently at the stitched area and assesses the damage.

                “They’re not torn, just a little loose,” He smiles. “I’m going to tighten them up quickly but it may hurt a little.” He looks as Stiles warningly. Stiles bites his lip and nods, preparing for the pain. He snips the end of the stitches, right below the knot and pulls it through. He can feel the friction against the skin, the feel of the thread sliding in and out of the tiny puncture holes on his chest.  He closes his eyes and looks away, feeling nauseous at the sight. After a tiny bit of pulling, he re-ties the knot and re-bandages the area. Stiles pulls his shirt back on.

                “So the leg wounds,” Deaton states and Stiles groans and looks around at Scott and Derek. Well, it’s been a trend of his these past few days to take off his pants in public. He sighs and pulls at his belt, undoing it and pulling his pants down, letting them slide down his legs. Derek, despite the fact that he’s not known for being a gentlemen, averts his eyes. Stiles breathes out and winces as Deaton peels off the bandage on his right leg first,

                Deaton shakes his head and stares up at Stiles.

                “Generally, when one is hospitalized, long runs through the forest aren’t advised,” Deaton reprimands.

                “Break me the bad news, doc,” Stiles whines.

                “Some of your stitches ripped and you bled through. It’s also slightly infected. I’ll clean it right now,” Deaton looks up to Stiles for permission and Stiles just nods. He’s dreading the pain.

                He feels it even before Deaton does anything. There’s a subtle pain that flares up the moment that he prods the wound to inspect it. Stiles winces and bites his lip, trying to muffle a painful moan.

                When Deaton cuts away part of the stitches, his mind turns into this circulating and emanating white glow of agony. Stiles inches back into the couch and tries not to yell. It’s even worse as the stitching starts again and through hazy eyes he looks towards Scott who has suddenly become Deaton’s assistant again, handing him supplies as needed. Turning his head to the other side, he looks toward Derek who shoots him a sympathetic glance. When the needle moves over a particularly infected area, Stiles can’t muffle the yell that comes out.

                In a sudden move, Derek reaches over and grabs his hand, grasping it tightly and interweaving their fingers. Stiles looks down at the entwined hands and feels a wave of pain leaving him, subsiding quickly as black veins appear out of Derek’s hand, moving up his arm. When the pain rises again, Derek repeats this action.

                Stiles does his best to shoot him a thankful gaze but the sincerity is lost as the sewing continues. When the one leg is done, Deaton moves to the next leg, unwrapping the bandage and sewing. Throughout the entire process, their hands are joined and Derek siphons off some of the agony. He can see the wincing from the older man, the narrowed eyes and occasional shallow breaths and Stiles tries to pull his hand away to spare Derek the unneeded pain. Derek grips his hand even tighter and remains strong, staring at Stiles with an intense look of determination. Deaton looks between the Alpha and the teenager quietly, not saying anything as he stitches.

                When the stitching is finished, he smears an antiseptic cream on the wound and bandages it. Stiles feels significantly better, the burning of infection fading away as his body has added help in fighting all the bacteria.

                Derek sighs and releases Stiles’ hand. Scott packs up Deaton’s kit and pats Stiles on the knee.

                “We’re done, buddy,” Scott smiles, not addressing the whole, Stiles and Derek holding hands issue.

                “Scott,” Derek speaks up, straightening up against the couch. “Can you send Peter in and ask him to dig up the floor plans for this house. We’ve got some work to do. I’m reinforcing this as I’ve been meaning to do for a while now.”

                “May I suggest renovations?” Deaton speaks up, looking around the charred and broken down shell of the house.

                “Be right back,” Scott yells and heads outside. Stiles can hear him on the other side of the door, arguing with Peter about authority issues.

                “I want this back as our Pack House,” Derek stands, looking at Deaton. “To restore it so the pack has a safe space.”

                “I approve highly of this plan,” Deaton nods. “Would you like some recommendations over defenses?”

                “It would be highly appreciated,” Derek speaks sincerely, conveying his gratitude. Even though he was born a werewolf, he’s only been an Alpha for a small amount of time and, in such time, everything has gone to hell. He’s had no time to test his authority, to rebuild and remodel.

                Peter walks in with a lazy grin and looks at Stiles with an approving smile.

                “The floor plans are downstairs,” He speaks up. “Shall we?” Peter points to the basement, indicating the direction towards Derek. Derek looks at Deaton.

                “The best offense is a great defense,” Deaton smiles and follows the two werewolves to the basement door “Scott,” he turns back quickly. “Can you pack my kit into my truck? Also, inform our patient as to the activities he _shouldn’t_ be doing the next few days?” Before they head into the basement, Derek shoots Stiles a reassuring glance.

                “Yes sir,” Scott salutes happily and looks at Stiles with a sympathetic grin.

                The three descend down the stairs, closing the leaning, charred and broken door behind them.

                “No running, no jumping, no scratching but that kind of applies to dogs and cats only,” Scott smiles. “Don’t sleep on your side, change the bandages at least once a day and if the cream fades away, apply more antibiotic cream. I know you have some.” Scott finishes his speech, undoubtedly memorized from his endless hours at the animal clinic.

                “Got it,” Stiles groans. He doesn’t even want to move off the couch, afraid of a flare up in pain.

                Scott sits next to him.

                “So it’s been a rough day again, huh?” Scott asks.

                “Like you wouldn’t believe,” Stiles snorts and shakes his head.

                “I’m sorry to start a chick-flick moment but I’m really glad you’re alive,” Scott smiles.

                Stiles grins back at the sincerity.

                “Thanks man. I thought I was a goner for a moment. I was in their pack house just thinking that I should have went to you first. Sorry for all of this chaos,” Stiles doesn’t know what else to say. There’s so much he wants to say, that he _could_ say but all that is coming out if word mush. He’s not even scratching the surface of all the things he thought about, the idle and stray musings that were on his mind when he thought he was just about to be killed.

                “I never did ask,” Stiles begins again. “What is this excuse of ours that we plan on telling my father as to the reason I ditched out of the hospital?” The issue has been absolutely panicking him since he escaped.

                “Deaton actually called him on his way here,” Scott rubs the back of his head.

                “He what?!” Stiles shouts, panic creeping up full force.

                “Relax. We didn’t want him stroking out over the panic of you going missing,” Scott urges, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We have an excuse. I mean, it’s going to take some good acting on your part but your dad will certainly believe it.”

                “Okay,” Stiles takes a deep breath. “What’s the excuse?”

                Scott smiles sadly and lower his head, indicating to Stiles that anything he has to say after this is probably going to cause some emotional torment.

                “Well, I already know you don’t like hospitals, so we can use that. Just tell your father that…. After what happened to your mother,” and Stiles already feels the emotional torment hitting him full force. “You couldn’t stand to be in the hospital. Tell him it was panicking you, he knows about the attacks. It was setting you back in your healing and you couldn’t take it anymore so you came here… because Isaac and Derek are here and he would have looked for you at my house first,” Scott bows his head, faking a reassuring smile.

                Stiles leans back in the couch and looks at the ceiling with a sigh. He sits in silence and contemplates the excuse for a good few minutes. The excuse has a great chance of working but re-opens many old wounds. _His mother._ He absolutely _despises_ hospitals. If he wasn’t surrounded by people the entire time he was there, he would have probably pulled an escape artist on his own, even for non-werewolf related reasons.

                “Damn,” Stiles mutters. “That will work.”

                “Think you can do it?” Scott asks sympathetically.  

                “I can because it’s true. Well, for the most part,” Stiles smiles sadly.

                “Good, it’s one less thing to worry about. And Derek also has a plan for the whole _Ethan,”_ Scott spits out his name with hatred. “Thing.”

                “And the Blake thing?” Stiles asks, nodding his head to the door outside where Isaac and the Alpha are standing. Where Isaac and the Alpha are standing out there _alone._ Isaac and an _Alpha_ alone.

                Stiles’ eyes widen and he looks to Scott. Scott repeats the exact same look and jumps to his feet.

                “Isaac?” Scott yells, his voice careful and cautious.

                Stiles groans and pulls himself to his feet as well, placing a hand on Scott’s forearm for support. Scott walks them both to the door, their footsteps quiet. Scott tears open the door to the outside and looks out into the forest. The dirt road outside is packed with Scott’s motorcycle, Derek’s Camaro, Peter’s car and Deaton’s truck.

                “Isaac?” Scott shouts louder this time, his voice picking up a tone of worry.

                “Isaac?!” Stiles yells, trying to get the attention of the teenager, wherever he may be.

                “Stiles,” Scott steps back, his eyes widening in horror.

                “What?” Stiles turns to his best friend, trying to read his horrified expression for any clue of where Isaac may be.

                “Blake’s truck is gone and it was here earlier while we were out here,” Scott swallows, fear clogging his throat. “And…” He trails off, staring at the ground.

                “And what?” Stiles shouts, looking for any clues.

                “And that’s blood,” Scott points and Stiles follows the direction of the finger to the ground by an empty patch of dirt in front of Derek’s car. There, on the brown earth and gravel, pooled like a puddle after a slight rainfall is a stark contrast of crimson. It’s _blood._ Isaac’s blood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear readers, you probably have already become accustomed to my many plot twists and turns. And while this may seem like another thing that's going to need resolving, I have a plan! This story is actually on a wind-down... it's reaching it's ending! 
> 
> But oh no, our poor puppy Isaac is gone and with that terrible Blake! (I seriously hate hurting Isaac. He's just so damn innocent). Derek always has people messing with his pack. 
> 
> But this... this shall be resolved!
> 
> Also- When I say this fic is reaching it's end... I mean it. I'm at what... eleven chapters now? So I might put up an official amount of 16 chapters. Five more! I'll resolve this is five or less chapters! 
> 
> But have no fear... I already have another story in the works (It's Stethan) and I'm absolutely IN LOVE with the idea I came up with. It actually came about from a dream. It's an AU! Something I don't really life but it has a lot of Wiccan and Celtic ties... I might even put the summary up on my profile soon. It's under the working title of Circle of Wolves... I have part of the first chapter written already and HeartoftheMirror is already working on a fanart piece for it (I'm really in love with this fic, okay?) I'll post more information as it comes along... It's going to be a monster fic.. probably this length or longer. 
> 
> But don't worry. This story is still my baby and the ending is coming soon... and there will be a bunch of lovely Sterek moments for all of you who have been anxiously waiting and riding the plot twists through to the end. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this! Read & Review.. Tell me what you think!  
> (Side note: i'll also have another Sterek story coming after this & Circle of Wolves. I'm a huge fan of the Teen Wolf fandom now)


	12. "And it's hard to hate someone once you understand them.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac has been kidnapped and the whole pack is in a mad dash to get him back and away from Blake. Stiles is reunited with his father and Derek breaks into Stiles' house for some comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me awhile to write as I didn't quite know if I wanted to include this one couch scene coming up. For the lpngest time, it felt forced until I stepped back for a few days and looked at it again. It was just a case of looking at something for so long that I needed a break from it. 
> 
> But here's the new chapter! Woohoo! Chapter Twelve.   
> (I'm sorry for hurting the characters!)

                Stiles freaks out, running the last few minutes over in his head. Peter and Isaac were supposed to be on watch, as they presented a reasonable match enough to slow down the Alpha but with Peter called in to look over floor plans, Isaac was alone against the beast. Now he’s gone and it’s obvious that he put up a fight. Scott beats him to the punch, flying out the door and examining the surroundings. He didn’t even hear a car start!

                “Get Derek,” He yells and Stiles nods in consent, running back inside, his wound be damned, and heading for the basement door. He descends down the steps in a hurry and nearly misses the second to last step, skidding down the stairs and just barely catching himself on the railing.

                The three men in the basement all look at him in shock.

                “You shouldn’t be-“ Derek yells but Stiles interrupts him, breathless and panicked.

                “Isaac’s gone,” He relays. “And so is Blake’s truck.”

                Derek’s eyes widen and Peter growls in the corner, flexing his fingers and shoving the emerging claws back down. Deaton stares at Stiles with a horrified expression.

                Derek is the first one to exit the room, brushing past Stiles quickly and zipping up the stairs, skipping two or three steps at the time in a hurry to reach the top. He slams the door out of the way and Stiles can hear slamming footsteps on the floorboards above.

                “I can’t believe we left the kid alone with him,” Peter presses a palm to his face and repeats Derek’s actions, brushing past Stiles and taking the stairs up.

                Deaton is slower and more methodical however. He slowly walks up to Stiles and offers his arm out. Stiles thanks him for the gesture and grabs his bicep, latching on to his long sleeve shirt. Deaton slowly maneuvers up the stairs and aids Stiles in a slow progression of one foot in front of the other until eventually, after a minute or so, they are standing in the living room once more. Stiles feels like there should be a greater sense of urgency but after being injured and so painfully human, he feels there’s not much he can do in the situation. Isaac has been taken, he’s injured as well and now their only hope of catching onto the Alpha is following his trail back to wherever he has taken the teenage Beta.

                Deaton and Stiles walk out to the front yard where Derek, Peter and Scott are standing in a circle beside the puddle of blood. Derek reaches into the puddle and tentatively dips his fingertips in, pulling the scarlet staining up to his nose.              

                “Dude, that’s not sanitary at all,” Stiles groans from next to Deaton.

                “It’s Isaac’s” Derek confirms, his voice hollow and empty. He turns his head around and examines the forest line, looking along the tree border for any clues of where the Alpha may have taken his Beta. Stiles feels a deep rooted twinge of gloom and despair and scans the forest to the best of his ability as well.

                “Where did they take him?” Scott asks, his head low and a feeling of loss etched across the saddened eyes and deep frown.

                “I don’t know,” Derek growls and continues to look around. Stiles can see his nostrils expand and collapse every so often, relaying the fact that Derek is likely using his sense of smell to try to catch onto a trail left by the fleeing two.

                Deaton is silent besides Stiles, analyzing the scene and the evidence left behind.

                “We have to find him,” Scott whines, looking at the blood and swallowing deeply. “He’s hurt.”

                “I know,” Derek closes his eyes shut, real tight. Peter is scanning the forest as well and looks down at a leaving set of tire tracks.

                “The trail continues into the forest but will likely end. It was hard enough tracking him down in the first place. He’s well trained in hiding and escape tactics,” Peter assesses and steps away from the blood, standing in the middle of the clearing and looking around at all angles.

                “I can’t catch a damn break ever,” Derek groans and hangs his head. Stiles notices the change almost instantly. His eyes shift slightly to a blood red color, his teeth elongating and his claws coming forth, growing rapidly. He opens his eyes wide and darts towards one of the trees. In a flash, he’s beside the trunk of a towering Cedar tree. In another fraction of a second, his fist is pulled back and launched straight at the bark. The tree cracks horizontally, spreading from the impact of his fist outwards. The thing lurches back, groaning and shaking against the other foliage before, with much noise, it comes barreling down and crashes on the forest floor. Besides its decimated remains, Derek is breathing heavily and a growl is building low in his chest.

                Stiles watches the scene with immense horror and sadness, feeling the anger and exhaustion practically pouring out of Derek is waves. With the rage subsiding, Derek throws his nose and face in the air and opens his mouth. Building up the sound in his chest, until at last, when there are no more emotions to add into it, he lets out a strong howl. It’s rooted in loss and betrayal, exhaustion and exasperation, a throaty and earthy growl that reverberates off of the trees, bouncing from every direction until it finally heads upwards, sky bound with its volume intensified. It lasts for a near minute and Stiles can feel the sound waves deep in his chest.

                No one says anything, no one dares to move a muscle but Stiles watches curiously as Scott and Peter both shift under the influence of the call. Their eyes turn, Scott’s to a yellow and Peter’s to an empty blue. Their claws spring forth and the hair forms on their faces _When an Alpha calls, you must answer._ Before the call ends, Scott raises his head as well and, under purely instinctual feelings, he lets loose another call, matching a higher frequency than the Alpha’s. His holds the same profound loss, the incredible sadness. It’s a call to come home, to return, to be safe again and Stiles feels like breaking down and crying. Peter, though less inclined to, follows the instincts and calls out as well. His call is a howl, it’s not rooted in emotion but rather, an _instinctual drive._ It’s a basic pack call, the one he hears from wolves of the forest, the one’s calling out for people to hear them. The three howls add together, matching pitches on different levels and surround the pack house in a frenzy of feelings and sounds. People within miles of this place can probably hear the sadness, the calling to the lost. Deaton’s breath hitches and he places a hand on Stiles to steady him who, until this point, hadn’t noticed he was swaying under the effect of all the calls.

                In a weird sense of anger, he wants the Alpha Pack to hear their calling. He wants Aidan to hear it precisely, to feel the emotion behind the calling. He wants to scream at him: “ _Do you see what you have done?”_  He wants to stand in front of him and throttle his throat and scream at his face until he breaks down crying. They’ve made a mess of things and now Isaac is gone. He can only wonder if the four wolves had done the same when he went missing, when he ventured into the pack house and sealed off his chances for rescue.

                When the howling dies down, the three werewolves transform back and let their human sides take over. Scott hangs his head and collapses to his knees on the dirt, pressing his forehead into the damp ground. Stiles can feel him shoving some light sobbing back down, can see him drag his abdomen in to avoid the deep crying. Peter just stares at the forest line, his face stoic and unmoved. Derek on the other hand is at the opposite end of the spectrum, his hands are still clenched and his eyes are still blood red. He stands still, at full alert, possibly hoping for a call from his missing Beta. Stiles knows it isn’t going to come.  If Isaac has been taken, Blake definitely won’t allow him to call back.

                Derek breathes out after a minute of silence and walks over to Scott. He bends down and wraps his hands, now devoid of claws, around Scott’s biceps and pulls him upwards, bringing him to his feet. He doesn’t say anything and neither does Scott. Derek places a hand on his shoulder and pats it twice before staring Scott in the eyes.

                “He’s not dead and we will find him,” Derek tells him, his voice confident and determined.

                Scott just nods and looks away, his eyes a cloudy red as if he is holding back tears. Stiles decides to finally move a muscle and he makes his way over to Scott and grabs him, pulling him into a hug.

                “You found me. We’ll find him,” Stiles smiles and pats Scott on the back before pulling away.

                “He’s just...” Scott trails off, his voice raw.

                “He’s pack,” Peter finishes and rubs at the back of his neck.

                Deaton, breaking his own stance of silence, walks over to Scott and places a hand on his back.

                “Scott,” Deaton makes the teenager look at him. “We’ll find Isaac,” he shoots a reassuring smile.

                Scott nods and breathes in deep and fakes a smile.

                “What’s the game plan?” Scott rubs his hands together, looking at the pack expectantly.

                “I’ll take Peter out and head into the forest to try to catch onto a scent,” Derek looks at Peter. “If you, and Deaton want to head out and try to chart a possible location for Blake’s pack house, as he gave you a general location, that would be great,” Derek orders and Scott nods.

                “We’ll head back to the clinic,” Deaton guides Scott forward. “I have some charts of Alpha territories there. Maybe that will give us something.”

                “Good,” Derek nods and looks towards Peter.

                Stiles stands there awkwardly, feeling like the last kid picked for a gym class team again.

                “What about me?” He asks, looking around and waiting for orders.

                “You’re staying here or heading back to your father’s house,” Derek points at him. “I don’t need Deucalion making a power play while we’re out hunting for Isaac. I can’t handle two of my pack going missing,” Derek stops and steps back, a look of hurt crossing his face. “Not again.” _Boyd and Erica._ That hurts.

                “But I can help,” Stiles argues.

                “You need to recover,” Derek replies impatiently. He looks at Deaton. “Can you make sure he gets back to his truck and gets home?”

                “I can,” Deaton nods.           

                “Derek,” Stiles whines.

                “Stiles, no,” Derek looks at him strictly. “You’re hurt and I can’t risk you going missing again. With Isaac gone and my pack weakened, this would give the Alpha Pack an opportunity to take me down. I can’t risk that.  Stay home, rest and relax and we’ll find Isaac. I promise,” Derek relays, his voice full of seriousness and demand.

                Stiles hangs his head and sighs, realizing fully that this is the end of the conversation. Derek simply isn’t going to allow him to be on the frontlines while he is injured and he has to admit, even though it pains him to do so, that he is a risk to the pack safety while Isaac is gone. Stiles looks back at Deaton and frowns.

                “I’ll check in later and we’ll pool our resources. We’re getting Isaac back,” Derek orders and he waves, running into the woods following the tire tracks, Peter trailing after.

                “Let’s head to the clinic and see what we can dig up,” Deaton smiles at Scott and walks him over to his motorcycle. “Drive safe. Don’t worry about Isaac to the point that you crash, okay?” Scott nods and shoves on his helmet. “I’m going to drop Stiles off at his car and ensure that he gets home. Meet me at the clinic. Stay inside. Don’t leave. We can’t be sure that the Alpha isn’t still around to wipe out Derek’s pack.” Scott nods again sadly.

                “Stay safe, Stiles. I’ll text you if we find anything,” Scott turns on his dirt-bike and hits the throttle, the engine roaring to life. He pulls back on the gas and heads straight, heading off on the dirt trail.

                “Let’s get you to your Jeep,” Deaton orders and heads to his truck. Stiles nods and climbs into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride back while Stiles stares out the window, contemplating as to Isaac’s possible location. The pack can’t go through another loss. They just can’t. Scott will be devastated if he loses his friend and honestly, so will Stiles. He’s grown fond of the kid.

                When they reach his Jeep, Stiles moves to push open the truck’s door but Deaton grabs his wrist. Stiles freezes in his track and stares at the Doctor. From his pocket, Deaton withdraws a cloth bundle, green fabric tied at the top with military paracord.

                “Just in case,” Deaton warns and Stiles just nods, accepting the bundle. He lifts it up to his nose and inhales. He winces his head back and squints his eyes.

                “Wolfs bane?” Stiles asks, trying to identify the bundle.

                “Yes. As I said, just in case,” Deaton relinquishes his hold and Stiles thanks him before heading out and into his jeep. He slams his key into the ignition and waves to the Doctor before pulling back onto the road and back to his house. Deaton’s truck stays in the view of his rearview mirror until he pulls into his driveway. As soon as he hits the concrete and shoves his Jeep into park, Deaton makes a U-turn and speeds around, heading towards the clinic.

                Stiles breathes deeply and shoves the wolfsbane package into his pocket. He pockets his keys as well and opens his door, looking at his house with a sigh of relief. While he is internally worried about Isaac and freaking out about the pack being in danger while hunting Blake down, he is still glad to be home and able to ease the discomfort of his father.

                As soon as Stiles enters the door, he is pulled into a huge hug, his father pulling him into his arms and holding him tight.

                “That was stupid Stiles,” His father yells but his voice is full of relief.

                “You’re hugging me for being stupid?” Stiles asks, falling back into his sarcastic defenses.

                “I’m hugging you because I’m glad you’re safe. Stiles, why did you run away?” He did asks. When he pulls away and out of the hug, Stiles can see his face and his guilt only builds. His father’s face has added wrinkles from worry and heavy bags under his eyes, no doubt from skipping sleep in order to go out and find his son.

                Stiles hangs his head and feels even more guilt building in his chest.

                “I…” Stiles trails off and takes a deep breath. “You know I don’t like hospitals,” He shakes his head and looks up at his father. “Not after…” He stalls. “Not after...” He can’t finish the sentence.

                “Your mother,” His father finishes and his shoulders sag, looking at Stiles sympathetically.

                “I couldn’t sit in there knowing what happened to her,” Stiles lies and feels bad for lying but he doesn’t want to worry his father any more than necessary. “I just... It was smothering me and I panicked and I left,” Stiles starts rambling and he realizes now that he is sobbing. There’s just so many things that have been happening these past few days and he can’t contain himself. His father pulls him into a hug again and rubs circles into his back. It makes him feel like a child again but he can’t bear to pull away.

                “It’s okay,” His father reassures. “I don’t blame you. I mean, you should have called but I can’t blame you for running away Stiles. I’m just so happy you’re safe,” His father pulls away and examines Stiles head to toe. “Are you okay? What happened to your neck?” His father puts two fingers on his chin and turns and lifts his head, exposing the bruise on his chin. Stiles mentally swears and tries his best to concoct a lie on the spot.

                “I may have been driving a tad recklessly,” Stiles winces, closing one of his eyes and looking at his father from the side. “And may have not been wearing a seatbelt and may have taken a steering wheel to the throat as I pulled into Derek’s driveway,” Stiles looks away not wanting to see his expression.

                “Stiles,” His father warns. “You just got into a car accident and you drive recklessly?” His father runs a hand through his hair. “You’re going to be the death of me, son.”

                “Hopefully not literally,” Stiles mutters under his breath.

                “What?” His father questions.

                “Nothing. I just said I’m sorry for being reckless,” Stiles covers.

                “How about we grab some ice for that bruise and lay you down on the couch so you can rest? Are you hungry?” He asks. “I took off of work for the day.”

                “Ah, you didn’t have to do that,” Stiles feels bad.

                “Are you hungry?” His father repeats the question and Stiles concentrates, trying to assess his current status. He hasn’t even been focusing on eating as of recently. Hell, he hasn’t eaten since Ethan visited him in the hospital.

                “Starving,” Stiles nods and his father smiles, leading him to the couch in the living room. He shoves him down and makes him lay down before covering him with a blanket. He walks to the freezer and grabs an ice pack, wrapping it in a wash-cloth before pressing it down lightly on Stiles’ throat. After that he heads into the kitchen and prepares a late dinner, cooking up a meal for Stiles.

                After eating and watching enough TV to subside his worries for the meantime, Stiles feels his eye lids dropping. His father takes his spot in his recliner in the corner of the room and watches Stiles peacefully. His body stops resisting the call and he gives into slumber, letting blackness and unconsciousness over take him.

                He wakes later to the sound of his father’s phone going off. In a quiet household, it’s practically screaming out the ringtone.

                “Sheriff Stilinski,” He answers gruffly, pushing the sleep out of his voice and sitting up in the recliner. There’s a pause. “I’m not working today; I’m looking out for my son.” Another pause. “I’m not on the case right now.” A significantly longer delay. “Fine, I’ll head down but only for a consulting look. Be right there,” His father closes his phone and stands up and Stiles feigns being asleep.

                His father walks over and grasps Stiles’ shoulder lightly, shaking it slightly.

                Stiles blinks awake and stares at his Dad.

                “What’s up?” Stiles asks.

                “You’ve been awake for a few minutes so you know. The guys in autopsy have identified some of the victims that we found in the forest earlier. I’m heading down to consult on the case. I’m off though so I promise I’ll be back soon. Try not to run off, okay?” He asks, looking down at Stiles. Stiles just nods and his mind flashes back to Blake, the killer of the victims sitting in autopsy. And Isaac. His mind flashes back to the fact that Isaac is missing and injured.

                “Okay,” Stiles nods.

                “Are you okay?” His father asks again and Stiles closes his eyes. “You seem distracted.”

                “I’m fine,” Stiles fakes a smile. “Just a little shaken up is all.”

                “Alright. Stay here,” His father gets up and points at him. “You better be here, in bed or in the bathroom when I get back. Just take it easy.”

                Stiles nods and watches as his father leaves through the front door. He breathes out and reaches into his pocket, feeling the bundle of wolfs bane. He runs his hands over the fabric and relishes in the feeling of security. At least he’s protected from werewolves now.

                He swings his feet over the edge of the couch and groans at the pain. He rubs at his forehead and looks around the room. Back when he was with Ethan, he never thought he’d see this again, the interior of his house.

                “Still sore?” A voice from across the room asks and Stiles jumps at least two feet in the air. He clutches at his chest and the wolfsbane pouch, turning around in horror. He hears a chuckle behind him.

                When he tilts his head and looks into the darkness of the room, he sees, leaning against the wall, Derek Hale with his arms crossed.

                “Derek!” Stiles yells. “God, you almost scared me to death.”

                “Well at least you’re prepared,” Derek walks out of the shadows and points to the bag of wolfsbane that Stiles has in his hand. Derek moves over and sits on the couch beside Stiles.

                “Did you find Isaac?” Stiles asks, his voice hopeful.

                Derek shakes his head and his expression falls. “The trail ran cold and Peter and I… We couldn’t catch a scent. We can’t see any clues at night so we have to wait for morning. Scott is still with Deaton looking for possible den locations.”

                “So he really is lost,” Stiles laments, looking up at the Alpha.

                “We’re not going to stop looking for him,” Derek reassures. “I’m not going to let other Alphas come in here and…” Derek stops mid-sentence and hangs his head.

                “Kill all the people you’ve turned?” Stiles asks, knowing where Derek is heading with the talk.

                “Yeah,” Derek admits.

                “Isaac’s not dead,” Stiles smiles, trying to reassure him.

                “How do you know that?” Derek asks harshly.

                “I have a feeling,” Stiles continues with a grin. “Isaac is strong. He may be the pack puppy but he can hold his own.”

                “He’s still young,” Derek growls. “He doesn’t have enough training to go against an Alpha.”

                “In all fairness, no one besides an Alpha has enough training to go against an Alpha but Scott and Isaac, and me and Lydia and Allison… we’ve all managed up until now,” Scott shrugs. “Come on Derek. Have some faith in Isaac. Admit you’re worried.”

                “I’m not worried,” Derek growls, crossing his arms again. Stiles just shoots him a skeptical look. Derek sighs and rolls his eyes. “I’m worried but that’s only because I’m the Alpha and I turned him into my Beta. I left him alone with that serial killer and now he’s gone.”

                Stiles frowns. “It’s not your fault. None of us processed that we left Isaac alone. We didn’t even hear Isaac struggle.” Derek just nods and remains silent. “Derek we’ll find him.”

                “Yeah,” Derek nods, remaining silent.

                “Does the big bad wolf need a hug?” Stiles asks, poking Derek on the shoulder. He jokes around not expecting an answer but much to his surprise, Derek leans over and wraps his hands around Stiles’ abdomen. Stiles yelps in surprise and Derek just chuckles, pulling Stiles down to the couch so his back is resting against the cushions. Derek glares down at him with a malicious smirk. Instead of pursuing any malicious intentions, he closes the distance between them and pulls him in for a hug, resting his head on Stiles’ shoulder, careful to avoid the stitches and wounds. Stiles doesn’t say anything and lays there, too shocked by the surprise of it. With all of his sour expressions and stoic demeanor, pardon Stiles if he never labeled him as the cuddle type.

                Stiles can’t label the experience as unpleasant however. In all honest, he doesn’t mind Derek hugging him.

                “Derek,” Stiles mumbles inquisitively.

                “You realize the last time we were like this, it was reversed and we were both paralyzed by Kanima venom, right?” Stiles laughs shallowly thanks to the added weight against his chest.

                Derek sighs but doesn’t move, his breathing steadying out. Stiles lays there, his eyes roaming around the room. He really hopes his father doesn’t walk back in at the moment. He’s already lied his teeth about as to why he escaped the hospital. He really doesn’t want to start lying to explain why Derek is on top of him.

                “Derek?” Stiles asks again, his voice lighter and more pensive.

                Derek doesn’t respond verbally but just groans against his shoulder. Stiles takes this as an implied “”What do you want Stiles?”

                “Why are you hugging me?” Stiles asks, really wanting to know the answer as to why Derek’s personality has taken a radical 180 degrees.

                “Because,” Derek groans and pulls away, looking Stiles in the face while he speaks. He’s only inches away now, his nose a mere centimeter or two away from touching Stiles’ own. “My pack has been brutally ripped apart these past few weeks,” His face falls to a downtrodden expression. “And I need some reassurance that some small fragment is left to cling on to. Scott is out with Deaton and Peter is out tracking.”

                “So I’m your last resort?” Stiles scoffs, rolling his eyes.

                “No, I need some reassurance that you’re still here. My wolf is…” Derek trails off, not finishing the sentence. Instead, Derek shifts his head and presses his nose into Stiles’ shoulder. With a deep inhale and a sigh, Derek pulls away and moves over to the next cushion of the couch, extracting his limbs from Stiles.

                Stiles remains laying down for a minute with a confused expression before swinging his legs over the edge of the couch and sitting up.

                “Lonely?” Stiles asks, trying to finish the Alpha’s question.

                Again, Derek doesn’t say anything. He just looks away, his jaw tightening and his eyes hardening up again, pushing out any remote resemblance to stray emotions. Stiles doesn’t want him to revert back into the tense and hollow Derek Hale. He wants the Derek Hale that was just holding him on the couch and relaxing against him.

                Stiles bites his lip before making an impulsive move and leaning over to his side, wrapping his arms around Derek’s abdomen and putting his head on his shoulder. Derek tenses severely initially, every muscle in his body growing rigid at the invasion of his personal space.  Stiles doesn’t relent in his maneuver however, and he remains with his arms wrapped around Derek’s waist. He closes his eyes and waits for Derek to make the next move.

                It’s an awkward minute before Derek’s muscles relax, his breathing returns to even intervals and he shifts positions. With some amount of reluctantly he returns the embrace, shifting so his back is against the arm of the couch. He grabs Stiles around the waist and pulls him down with him, keeping Stiles’ face on his shoulder. Stiles tenses in response to falling forward, still against Derek’s shoulder but Derek places a hand on his back to reassure him that they aren’t falling far. There’s a mutual, comfortable silence.

                “You smell a lot like him, y’know?” Derek mutters, his voice bitter.

                “I’m sorry,” Stiles apologizes genuinely. “You know we’re still like… technically dating, right?” Stiles asks, unsure of Derek is going to call off his courting process now that Ethan is out of the equation.

                “I know,” Stiles can feel Derek nod, feel the muscles in his neck pulling and loosening as his head moves up and down. He can feel the reverberation of the two words in Derek’s chest, the soft rumbling as he speaks. He hates to admit it, but he feels alright like this. He feels security and safety and warmth. He’s not a werewolf but even just knowing that an Alpha werewolf is holding him against his own chest right now, it’s reassuring. Stiles can fall asleep like this and be content to wake up in the same manner.

                It’s not like he wants to ruin the comfortable silence. He doesn’t even want to ruin the moment, to have Derek pull away and go stoic again. But he has to know the way things are headed.

                “I’m not dating Ethan anymore, I mean… I think. I’m not sure how this works,” Stiles admits, eager for Derek’s reaction.

                “No, you’re not… He broke his courtship the second he almost got you killed. It’s not what mates do,” Derek responds, his voice oddly calm and serene.

                “So…” Stiles trails off, his voice full of anxiety. “Where do we stand, Derek?” Stiles asks, holding his breath.

                “We’re not standing, we’re laying,” Derek responds and Stiles breathes out and rolls his eyes. Stiles pushes the argument though.

                “You don’t have to date me now,” Stiles starts, his voice low and sad. “I mean, I’m not telling you that you shouldn’t date me… It’s certainly not necessary but that doesn’t mean that it’s,” Stiles starts rambling but Derek silences him by tightening his grip around his waist.

                “Stiles?” Derek growls.

                “Yeah?” Stiles mumbles.

                “Just shut up,” He laughs and Stiles sighs and rests his head against Derek’s shoulder again.

                “How’s the big bad wolf doing?” Stiles asks with a laugh, trying to amend the situation.

                “Stressing about my beta and trying to wash Ethan’s scent off of you.”

                “We’re going to find Isaac. Scott won’t give up until he finds him and I know you won’t either,” Stiles affirms, having faith in the Alpha.

                “I didn’t find Erica on time,” Derek mourns and Stiles buries his face in Derek’s shoulder.

                “There’s nothing you could have done about that,” Stiles reassures.

                “I didn’t get to you when Ethan stole you away,” Derek lists.

                “That was my bad decision.”

                “I just want my pack out and away from danger,” Derek growls in frustration.

                “Someday,” Stiles dreams, his voice growing even more tired against the soft fabric of Derek’s shirt. His embrace is even warmer, lulling him into a slumber.

                “Someday,” Derek agrees. “Well you don’t smell like him anymore,” Derek replies happily, his chest rumbling in approval. Stiles feels some relief wash over him. The traces of Ethan are disappearing. The infection that the twins have brought into his life, the infection that they have nurtured to a festering mess, it’s slowly fading with Derek’s aid.

                Stiles can feel Derek sit up, the angle of incline increasing slightly before Derek falls back to the couch and groans. The arms around his abdomen pull away so they’re grasping his hips and Derek maneuvers his body to suddenly flip them over. Stiles falls underneath Derek and stares at the Alpha up in surprise. Instead of looking down on him, Derek is looking towards the front door.

                “You’re dad’s pulling into the driveway. I’ve got to go,” Derek whispers and pulls away. As he slides off his couch, Stiles grabs his wrist and shakes his head.

                “Do you have to go?” Stiles asks, sitting up. He wants to talk things out, to figure out this whole situation.

                “Do you want to explain to your father why I’m here on the couch with you?” Derek asks, raising an eyebrow. Stiles sighs and shakes his head. Derek slides completely off the cushion and reaches to the back of the couch, pulling off a soft throw blanket and tossing it over Stiles, straightening out and pulling it down so it covers his feet. Stiles pulls the blanket up to his chin and lays out on the couch, frowning at Derek.

                “I’ve got to check up on the Isaac-hunting progress. Don’t say anything to your dad about it and stay inside,” Derek warns, looking at Stiles seriously. “I’ll keep you updated and besides,” Derek smirks. “We’ve only been on one date so far Stiles. Self-respect!” He warns with a dry tone but a joking smirk.

                Stiles flips him off as Derek retreats, heading towards the back door. He hits the TV on behind him, illuminating the room in the glow of the flickering television. Stiles can still see the smirk as Derek turns a corner and disappears. Stiles rolls his eyes and pulls the blanket up higher.

                A minute later, his father enters through the door, pulling off his jacket and hanging it up. When he enters the room, he looks around.

                “You should be in bed,” He comments. “You’re injured and need to heal.”

                “I was too sore to get up,” Stiles covers. Technically not a lie. He would have moved into his room by now but he doesn’t feel like putting any pressure on his legs. Derek was an added… complication of course but it’s nothing his father needs to worry about.

                “Here,” His father walks over and offers out a hand. “Let’s get you upstairs. You’ll sleep better in your bed.”

                After a lot of leaning on his father and a very complicated process of getting up the stairs and into his room, Stiles flops down on his bed and looks up at the ceiling, exasperated. Before he can drift off to sleep, his father whips a pair of pajama pants at him and laughs.

                “Need help there or can I call it a night as well?” His father grins.

                “I got it,” Stiles groans and pulls the pants off of his face.

                His father walks over, the joking and laughter gone.

                “I’m glad you’re home,” He smiles fondly. “I was worried.”

                “I’m sorry for worrying you,” Stiles laments. His father rubs a hand against the top of his head. “How did the consulting thing go?” Stiles presses, trying to see if his father found any information on Blake.

                His father shrugs and gives a half-grin.

                “You know how these things go. Despite the graphic crime scene,” Stiles suppresses a shudder. “There was no visible evidence so far so it’s hard to find the murderer… But we’ll catch him eventually.”

                Stiles nods and fakes a smile, despite the dread sneaking into his chest.

                “Now you just need to focus on getting better and I’ll focus on getting the murderer. Okay? Good night,” His father departs, smiling and closing the door behind him.

                As soon as the door is closed, Stiles throws the pants into the corner, resting in his boxers, and stares up at the ceiling, feeling loss deep within his rib cage. Even his father, an adequate and skilled detective, can’t find any clues as to Blake’s existence or location. Scott and Deaton probably aren’t going to find anything either, he thinks in his deep and brooding bad mood. The trail is going to run cold, the pack is going to lose another member and Scott and him, well… they won’t be the same. Scott is going to take Isaac’s loss hard.

                Right now, with things heading down a dangerous route, he’s even more confused as to why he wouldn’t wish things back to the way they were before. He doesn’t even know if he wants that. Scott and he would still be invisible in school, living solemn, isolated and depressing lifestyles. They would fade into the background of the high school hustle and bustle and their lives would be this constant monotonous routine of homework and career searching. They wouldn’t know Isaac. The poor kid would be back in his abusive household with his terrible father and they wouldn’t be as close to him as they are now.  They wouldn’t have been noticed on their lacrosse team, still fighting for first string but never having an actual chance of acquiring it. In all honesty, this whole werewolf thing strengthened a lot of friendships.

                 Lastly, they wouldn’t know Derek. He wouldn’t know the calm and mostly expressionless bastard. A little while ago, he would have said that this wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Now, he’s not so sure. Since Derek has shown up in his life, it’s been more interesting. Without Derek, he wouldn’t have had that moment on the couch only a few minutes ago. He wouldn’t be sitting in here, running the scene over in his mind like a middle school-aged girl with a bad crush. No, he’s not so sure he can wish things back to the way they were.

                He would prefer for the pack to be together again, for them to not be touched by death and violence so often but he doesn’t want to head back to the way things were before Scott was bitten and before he got introduced to the world of werewolves. Some would tell him that the bite is a curse, an unfortunate happening but he’s beginning to look at it simply as a change. Since Scott’s been bitten, everything has been turned upside down.

                Recently, he’s starting to like looking at things from a new perspective.

                This in mind, he stays awake. Had things worked out, he would have been doing this exact same thing on the couch, offering some comfort to a self-punishing Alpha. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoy writing Sterek scenes, I really do. I've ironically been reading some Peter/Stiles scenes because I stumbled upon a fic and was like "I like this style". However be my OTP for this series. 
> 
> Also, I have a lovely idea for the Stethan fic but no time at all to write this so as soon as this is wrapped up, which might be soon, I will focus on writing that. I'm in a mad rush to straighten things out for school next semester so my time is being devoured. 
> 
> Good news! The next chapter of this is already written and I only need to proof-read it for any errors that may, like last chapter, insinuate Stiles is laying on Coach Finstock instead of a fluffy couch. Ouch. Unintentional slash moments. 
> 
> But while you lovelies are reading this, I shall be working on getting the next chapter up. I'm a huge fan of dual chapter updates. I don't like people waiting too long between crucial moments. Next chapter: Mamma McCall moments... Scott & Deaton bonding times (Because Deaton is like a father to Scott)... a resurfacing of Ethan and a look into what is going on at Isaac's end. 
> 
> See you soon!


	13. You can never love people as much as you can miss them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deaton and Scott slave over maps. Melissa McCall wants her second son returned home safely and Ethan drops in on Stiles to offer him some information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the SECOND PART of another DUAL CHAPTER UPDATE.   
> So if you haven't read the last chapter yet and you start reading this like... When did Scott get to Deaton's office?... you should probably read that first. Not even probably. Go read that first!
> 
> This doesn't need another author's note so here you go... Chapter THIRTEEN!  
> (Guys, I have more chapters than BBC has Doctors)

He’s spent a large majority of time in the same office of the animal clinic, hunched over maps with Dr. Deaton, discussing battle plans and possible locations of a certain homicidal Alpha and his missing friend. With very little evidence to go on, exasperation is setting in quickly. He’s pulling at his hair, biting at his lip in frustration and anger and flipping pages with a little too much rage. He heard from television that after the first 24 hours of disappearance, the chances of finding a kidnapped person diminish significantly. He doesn’t want the clock to run out on Isaac, for the sand to fall completely to the bottom of the hourglass. He’s charting where the police found the other bodies, territories of other Alpha packs to subtract from the immense expanse of land the Alpha could be hiding Isaac. The lines of his markings are getting thicker and deeper, indicating his rising frustration and desperation.

                Finally, as Deaton works with a client in the front office, Scott slams the marker down on the desk and pushes his forehead to the cold metal. He just wants the pack back together. All today and even days before that, he has stayed up late at night pulling his hair out in worry over whether or not he would find Stiles alive and not mentally scarred. Now he’s doing the exact same thing for Isaac. He just doesn’t want to accept that fact that someday he’s going to lose one of his best friends over the whole werewolf drama and he might be powerless to stop it.

                Scott looks over the diagrams while his face is on the table, desperately thinking that a change of angle is all he needs to somehow discover a magical way to recover Isaac and bring him back home safely.

                The time spent working at the clinic and his acute werewolf senses do nothing to condition him to Deaton’s light footsteps, to his practically soundless approaches so, as Scott lays his head in frustration against the desk, he fails to notice the doctor coming up behind him.

                “Don’t give up hope yet,” Deaton mutters, his voice low and calming. Scott jumps back and stares at him before closing his eyes and exhaling slowly. “I’m positive we’ll find him.”

                “In all fairness,” Scott replies with a negative tone. “Blake doesn’t strike me as the kind to keep his victims alive. What we saw in the field… The person that killed them isn’t the mercy type and Isaac is with that monster.”

                “Yes,” Deaton nods. “However, Blake has no motives for doing away with Isaac,” Deaton pulls up a chair. “From what you’ve told me, he came here looking to join the Alpha Pack so he struck up a deal with Aiden that, if he killed Stiles, he would be able to join. Turns out that Aiden was planning on killing him, yes? Therefore the only way to avoid Derek and Aiden coming after him, and to regain strength, is to start up a pack again…” Deaton shrugs and Scott’s eyes widen.

                “He wants Isaac in his pack? Why Isaac? Why not kidnap me or Peter,” Scott asks, wondering on Blake’s mental process.

                “Isaac was the most logical to grab, actually. He was left alone when you guys all entered the house and you would’ve been too much of a risk. You probably would have killed him had he jumped you and honestly, Peter would’ve just gutted him and left him there,” Deaton explains and Scott can’t help but to agree with him.

                “So Isaac was easy prey?” Scott asks, feeling indirectly spurned at the insinuation that the beta was anything other than capable of looking after himself. He did survive with his father after all this time and anyone capable of shouldering that abuse and surviving in that broken home can never be considered weak.

                “No,” Deaton shakes his head. “Quite the opposite. I strongly believe Isaac is still alive because he’s valuable to Blake. Isaac is still just a cub in werewolf terms and has a lot to learn. Blake won’t have to break him first to incorporate him into pack. He’s submissive. If Blake wants unrivaled power in his pack, having Isaac would be a good thing. He wouldn’t even need to train him like a pup.”

                Scott perks up at this news. “So there’s a good chance he’s not dead?”

                “No, there’s a good chance he’s just holding Isaac, waiting for him to join his pack.”

                “And if he doesn’t?” Scott worries, puling at his hair. Isaac won’t flip on Derek easily.

                “Don’t fret,” Deaton chastises. “Isaac is no good to Blake dead. He’ll wait. A long time if he needs to. If it gets long enough, Isaac will flip because it would be in his best interest to join Blake. It may be a year or longer but Blake will force his hand.”

                Scott smiles half-heartedly at the Doctor. “So we’re not searching for a dead body?”

                “No,” Deaton smiles and sets a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Come on, you need to sleep. Even though it’s not a school night your mom is expecting you home at a decent time.”

                “All right,” Scott agrees, feeling a little better and less frustrated. He digs in his pocket for his keys.

                “No,” Deaton reaches over and grabs the keys right from Scott’s fist. “It’s late and you’re on a dirt bike that, no offense, looks prone to breakdown in the middle of the night. We’ll shove it in my truck and I’ll drive you back.”

                Scott just pouts and glares at him. “God forbid I get into an accident and get injured and heal a few seconds later,” Scott sighs.

                “How about we avoid the near-death collisions for one night? I have a one human patient quota per day and Stiles used that,” Deaton shoves Scott’s keys into his pocket and starts gathering up the maps, stowing them away in a drawer. Scott groans and follows after Deaton as he leaves, trailing him into the parking lot. He knows enough not to argue with his boss after he gets an idea concerning his welfare in his head.

                Scott, using werewolf strength, lifts his bike carefully into the back of Deaton’s truck and climbs into the passenger seat. He rubs at his forehead and tries to go over the events of the day, how things quickly went from Stiles in the hospital, to Stiles missing, to Stiles found and to Isaac missing. In the whole expanse of today, his pack hasn’t been together for longer than an hour or two.

                “Thank you,” Scott says to break the silence. “For everything. For covering for us, for the advice.”

                Deaton looks over and smiles fondly.

                “No thanks are needed. I’m just hoping to get Stiles and Isaac back to safety.”

                “Stiles will be fine now that he’s dating Derek,” Scott scoffs and quickly realizes his mistake, bringing a hand up to his mouth. “Crap…” He smiles guiltily at Deaton.

                “Dating?” Deaton smirks and shakes his head, looking at the road. “I’m glad I didn’t jump to that conclusion prematurely.”

                “You know?” Scott presses back in his seat.   

                “It’s my job to notice things,” Deaton smiles.

                “But now that Ethan dropped his courtship, they’re technically not dating,” Scott laughs.

                Deaton looks like a deer caught in headlights before rubbing at the back of his neck and giving a fake smile. “Yes, I’m positive that things will go back to normal,” He laughs.

                Deaton pulls up to Scott’s driveway and backs in, letting Scott pull his bike out of the back. Hearing the noise, Melissa. McCall comes out and scopes out the surroundings.

                “Scott,” She replies happily and comes out to greet her son. She notices Deaton stepping out of the driver’s seat.

                “Thank you so much for dropping Scott off, I worry about him driving that bike home in the dark all the time,” She pulls Scott into a hug.

                “It’s no problem Melissa,” Deaton holds up a hand. He moves to step back into the driver’s seat

                “Hey Scott,” She looks at her son. “Is Isaac coming back home soon?” She asks, worry creeping at the edge of her voice. Scott freezes, his eye growing sad. Deaton steps out of his truck. “Oh no,” She looks between the two men. “No,” She looks back and forth and brings both hands up to cover her mouth in horror. “What happened to him?” She cries out.

                Scott steps back, sadness overtaking him as his mother figures the worst.

                “Isaac,” Deaton says, placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Well, we encountered _problems_ while looking for Stiles today and we needed to befriend an enemy in the attempt.. Needless to say,” Deaton shrugs and looks at Melissa sadly.

                “No,” Melissa shakes his head, tears welling up in her eyes. “He’s not..” She looks at Scott hopefully.

                “He’s not dead but the enemy has him,” Scott looks down, shuffling his feet. This seems to reassure his mother as she drops her hands away from her mouth and she looks at Scott sadly.

                “Why Isaac?” She throws her hands up in sadness. “He’s already had a hard enough life. Is Stiles okay?”

                “Stiles is fine and we will find him Melissa,” Deaton reassures and squeezes Scott’s shoulder before dropping his hand away. “I’m personally looking into the details tonight.”

                “Thank you,” She mutters and walks over to hold Scott tightly. She presses a kiss to his forehead and Scott shies away, embarrassed at his mother’s affections. Deaton chuckles softly.

                “Sleep well, Scott,” Deaton waves goodbye. “Don’t worry too much about things.” He warns.

                “Alan!” His mother shouts as Deaton walks back to his truck. She walks a few feet away from Scott and up to the doctor. Scott tries to look occupied while toying with his bike but, secretly, he focuses his enhanced hearing on the two of them talking.

                “Yes?”

                “Please,” She begs. “Just bring Isaac home. He’s like my son now. If he doesn’t return home… I’ll,” She stops, shaking her head with a sob. Deaton places a hand on her shoulder.

                “I’ll do everything in my power to track Isaac down and we have a whole pack out searching for him. We’ll bring him back to you,” He reassures and nods, stepping into his truck and pulling away.

                As he turns out of the driveway, Mrs. McCall walks over to her son and drapes a hand over his shoulders, pulling him inside.   

                “I have food for you in the microwave,” She rubs his back. “We’ll take it easy tonight, okay?” She still has sadness in her voice as she drags him inside.

                Scott has to fight to not cry himself to sleep that night.

                As he climbs into bed, Melissa McCall picks up the phone and has a quick conversation with the Sheriff.

**[Same time: Stilinski Household]**

                Stiles can hear the gentle wind through his window, can hear the wind blowing through the trees outside that single pane of glass. The night is cold, making for comfortable sleeping and he, in only a pair of boxers and a t-shirt cuddles under the blankets to get warm. With the deep wounds on his chest, he’s resigned to sleeping on his back instead of his normal position sprawled out on his stomach.

                Sleep can’t find him soon enough and he wakes up several times during the night as his mind wanders to Blake and Aidan’s attacks. One time during the night, he feigns being asleep when his dad comes in to tell him he’s headed off to discuss things with the coroner. It’s urgent business apparently. He pats his head affectionately and tucks the corners of his covers in, all like he’s twelve again, before heading off and leaving, the sound of his car revving as it pulls away.

                Stiles stares at the ceiling, his mind running wild. Isaac is still missing and in Blake’s clutches. The faint memory of Blake digging his claws deep into the flesh of his leg still lingers, the pain jolting his mind awake like a terrible nightmare. Until the pack is back together and the town is without a deadly predator coming after their pack, Stiles will not be able to sleep soundly at night. Stiles sighs and clenches his eyes shut, trying to shut out all the incoming mental images. His mind normally runs wild on a daily basis and strays away from the topic at hand however, in the middle of the night, it turns into this deadly combination of over-concentrating on a certain topic and focusing bad images in the mental-cross hairs of his mind. Stiles rolls over and sighs, punching his pillow a few times to try to fluff it up. If he keeps going without sleep, he’s going to go crazy.

                Stiles lingers between consciousness and semi-unconsciousness for a good hour, unable to completely shut off his mind. He interprets every noise that goes bump in the night as something that can kill him. He resigns himself to defeat, admitting that he won’t be able to sleep until his mind is completely exhausted and shuts down due to necessity, He pulls his cellphone out and flips through his contacts, debating whether or not he should call Scott and reserve a spot on his floor. Perhaps that would stop his thoughts from running wild.

                As he goes to put his phone away, he feels the device vibrate and beep. He checks the screen.

                **From Derek (3:14:53AM): No new information. Just got back to the pack house. Text me in the morning when you get this.**

Stiles sighs and runs a hand over his face.

                **To Derek (3:16:05AM): No bother, I’m still awake.**

**From Derek (3:16:34AM): Can’t sleep?**

**To Derek (3:17:12AM): Not at all.**

**From Derek (3:17:30AM): Is your dad home?**

Stiles stares at his phone, wondering about the sudden change in topic.

                **To Derek (3:18:23AM): No, he had to go into the station to work on Blake’s case.**

**From Derek (3:19:36AM): Want me to drop by?**

Stiles stares at his phone and rolls his eyes.

                **To Derek (3:20:32AM): No, I’m trying to sleep.**

**From Derek (3:20:54AM): I mistakenly posed that as a question. I’m dropping by.**

Stiles drops his phone on his table and rubs his eyes, staring up at the ceiling in frustration. He’s just so damn tired and his mind won’t let him sleep. He keeps rolling over in bed, tempting sleep to take him but his body isn’t biting. He rolls his head towards the door and contemplates throwing a pair of shorts on so he doesn’t greet Derek in his boxers. Knowing the Alpha, he won’t use the doorbell and will catch Stiles off guard in his underwear.

                Stiles holds his breath, widens his eyes and lets out a large sigh, not feeling like getting up to get dressed at half past three in the morning.

                He hears a rustling outside of his window and he perks his head up. When he hears the noise again, his curiosity peaks. _Is Derek here already?_ Stiles wonders, figuring that if Derek was being truthful about just arriving at the pack house, he shouldn’t be here for another few minutes. Stiles steps to the corner of his room to slip on a pair of basketball shorts, not giving Derek the advantage of stumbling upon him in his current state of dress. He hears the window slide open and he turns around to yell at Derek for being creepy and not using the front door like a normal human being. Then again, Derek isn’t a normal human being. He’s fairly certain being an Alpha werewolf pulls him out of the category.

                “There is a functioning front door, you know,” Stiles remarks, turning around to face Derek.

                Standing there, next to the window and bathing in the moonlight is Ethan, not Derek. He’s got this apologetic look on his face, a mixture of sadness and regret, remorse and understanding.

                Stiles freezes and carefully surveys the room. His phone is on the nightstand but Ethan will probably be able to kill him before he can reach it and send out a text message. There’s a bag of wolfsbane in the drawer but, if he can’t reach the cellphone he certainly can’t reach the pouch. Stiles has his back to the door and can probably run but that would only buy him one or two minutes at the most. It’s certainly not enough to run out into the street and ask for help. Well this is a bad situation.

                Stiles sighs and takes a deep breath before looking at Ethan one last time. He turns quickly and tries to reach his bedroom door to flee but Ethan crosses the room quickly and slams the door shut, applying pressure to it before Stiles can even yank the damn thing open.

                “Stiles please, I’m not going to hurt you. Just hear me out,” He begs and Stiles slams his weight into the werewolf, trying to throw him off balance. The twin doesn’t budge and stands there, a sad expression still on his face.

                “You said that the last time and only moments later your brother tried to choke the life out of me,” Stiles continues to yank on the door with no success.

                “Yes, my brother. That wasn’t me,” Ethan laments.

                “You were going to let him kill me,” Stiles yells. He gives up yanking on the door and turns to run towards the nightstand but Ethan counters his sprint and grabs him by his biceps, pinning him to the wall.

                “I’m not here to kill you now. I had no choice then. I’m no longer on orders regarding you,” Ethan hangs his head. Stiles tries struggling but Ethan’s grip tightens.

                “Get out of my room, Ethan,” Stiles growls, facing down the Alpha without fear. He’s been near dead too many times this week to fear death any longer.

                “Please, I’m here to help you,” Ethan begs, looking down at his hands and loosening his grip. He still holds Stiles against the wall but his grip is no longer bruising.

                “Help me?” Stiles laughs. “Help me what? Die?”

                “I know about Isaac,” Ethan looks guilty and stares Stiles into the eyes.

                “Oh, Isaac,” Stiles replies angrily. “That he was kidnapped by Blake?” Ethan nods. “The same Blake who Aiden invited here to kill me? So it could be argued that this is Aiden’s fault?” Ethan sighs. “I don’t need your help Ethan, get out of my room. The last time you ‘tried to help’…” Stiles mocks that with air quotations “I almost died twice.”

                “Stiles, I had no choice. You don’t know what we owe to Deucalion… I can’t go against his orders. But I’m not on them now. I don’t want to hurt you,” Ethan whines.

                “Too late,” Stiles pushes against the werewolf and Ethan hangs his head against Stiles’ shoulder.

                “You’ll never forgive me?” He asks, his voice desperate.

                “Never,” Stiles shakes his head.

                “I figured not,” Ethan sighs and lifts his head. “That’s why I want to give you information on Isaac so I don’t cause you any more pain.”

                “How can I believe what you have to tell me, Ethan? Literally _everything_ you have told me so far has been a lie,” Stiles reasons, trying to buy time until Derek shows up.

                “Not everything,” Ethan begs. “I… you grew on me,” Ethan admits. “Did any of the dates we went on, the moments we shared, it’s nothing now?”

                “I grew on you?” Stiles laughs. “I grew on you and you still tried to murder me. Wow, I’d hate to be someone you hate. Our dates were lies, Ethan. You betrayed me and you expect me to sympathize?”

                “Please, just let me give you some information. You can follow it if you want or you can ignore it. I just want you… I don’t want you to lose any more of your pack because of me.”

                “Deucalion is trying to get at Scott and Derek and he’s trying to kill my pack,” Stiles glares at him. “I’m going to lose my pack because of yours.”

                Ethan looks conflicted before he lifts his nose to the air and sniffs lightly. He growls lowly.

                “I have to go but I’m serious. I have information for you. I know where Blake is keeping Isaac. If you want to hear it, come find me. I’m only trying to help you. I never wanted things to turn out the way they did,” Ethan lets go of Stiles and heads towards the window. He swings his feet out the windowsill and peeks his head back in, a small sad smile lurking on the corner of his lips. Stiles doesn’t even think of rushing for the wolfsbane.

                “No,” Stiles shakes his head. “You only wanted to trick me into mating with you so I’d sell my pack out. I won’t come to you Ethan.”

                “You will,” Ethan smiles sadly again, until the smile eventually turns to a deep frown. “Eventually, when you lose hope because Blake, he doesn’t leave any evidence, you’re going to find me. And that’s okay, I want to see you again and I’ll let you know exactly where he is. I know you don’t trust me, and you probably never will, but I’m not going to lie to you from here on out.” He nods before slipping out the window.

                Stiles can hear him scale down the tree. Stiles lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and sinks to the floor beside his bed and just lays with his head in his hands. Seeing Ethan’s face again, it hurt. It opened up wounds that were trying their hardest to close.

                He won’t give Ethan the satisfaction. He won’t go to him for information.

                After sitting on the floor for a few minutes, Stiles hears the front door open and close, making only slight creaking noises. He has to laugh at the Alpha’s entrance. He was so positive that Derek would enter through his bedroom window that he dropped his defenses and allowed Ethan to sneak up on him. Now, Derek is being civil and is actually entering through the front door. That his father left locked. He won’t even ask.

                Stiles stays on the floor and refuses to move, not caring about the state he is found in.

                He hears the footsteps on the stairs, slow and steady, one foot in front of the other, the sound growing louder as Derek moves closer.  

                “Stiles?” He hears outside his door, but Stiles doesn’t answer. He remains curled up on the ground. It’s not that he’s frightened or in shock or even scared, he’s just surprised. The door to his room is pushed open and Derek swears audibly, crossing the room in two strides before kneeling in front of Stiles. “Stiles?” He asks, concern lacing his voice. Shortly after the question, he hears a growl from in front of him.

                “Ethan was here,” Stiles lifts his head up and shrugs.

                “Are you okay?” Derek asks, looking him over carefully.

**“** He didn’t hurt me,” Stiles responds.

                “What was he here for?”

                “He told me he had information on where they’re hiding Isaac…” Stiles trails off, looking at Derek’s face to gauge his reaction.

                “What did he say?” Derek asks curiously.

                Stiles shakes his head and lifts an eyebrow. “Didn’t tell me. He ran away right before you got here. He told me to find him and ask him.”

                “You didn’t agree to it, did you?” Derek lets more concern leak into his voice.

                “No,” Stiles leans his head against the side of the bed. “I won’t trust anything he says anymore.”

                “Good,” Derek moves from in front of Stiles to the side of him, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning against the frame of the bed. Derek doesn’t make eye contact but his shoulder brushes against Stiles, reminding him that the Alpha is still there. “Why can’t you sleep?”

                Stiles yawns and shrugs, staring at the pillows on his bed in contempt. “My mind is running laps still.”

                “Flashbacks?” The word is silent but understanding.

                Stiles winces before nodding. Derek doesn’t say anything for a minute and just sits there. The room falls into a comfortable silence. After a few minutes, Stiles’ mind stills and he leans his head back against the bed, closing his eyes. Ever so slowly, he falls asleep to the sound of Derek breathing evenly next to him. His vision is swarming with swirls of varying shades of black and grey, splotches of various colors beneath his eyelids coming to life and dancing in front of his sleep-deprived gaze. A small smile, only a centimeter or two of upturned lips, graces his face as he drifts off. A miniscule rational part of his brain wants to stay awake to argue with Derek but he is just too physically exhausted to fight his brain anymore.

                Before he’s too deep into sleep to realize his surroundings, he can vaguely make out the feeling of a pair of arms wrapping around his back, one mid-back and one scooping him up beneath the knees. Stiles doesn’t even flinch as he is lifted several feet off the ground. Shortly after, he feels the mattress beneath his back and covers pulling up around him, smothering him in warmth. He subconsciously turns over, presses his cheek to the soft fabric of his pillow and wraps an arm over the surface.

                There are no sound indications that Derek ever leaves. He focuses on Derek’s breathing, the steady inhaling and exhaling pattern that keeps his thoughts from going rabid.

                “Should I go to Ethan for help?” Stiles mumbles, his voice distorted and his words slur as his face is pressed against the pillow.

                “No, you should sleep,” Derek replies softly. “I’m the Alpha here, let me watch out for my pack.”

                Stiles doesn’t dignify that with an answer. He simply nods, rubbing his face into the pillowcase and drifts back asleep.

**[Blake’s Den]**

                Isaac’s arms are becoming more numb by the second, shackled up in handcuffs and suspended in the air by rusting chains. He is riddled with exhaustion, his eyelids closing every so often and he’s using his last remaining willpower to force them open. Who knows what the bastard will do to him when he’s asleep?

                When he looks down, he can see cold sweat running down his bare chest, trailing down to ripped and battered jeans, which are covered in dirt and drying blood. He is sitting on his knees, figuring it to be the best spot to prevent the pulling on his shoulders and the burn of his muscles when his arms are pulled too high. His legs are screaming at him to find a better position but he isn’t allowed the luxury of repositioning himself too drastically as his ankles are tied to the ground in rope, fastened around a metal bar in the ground. He’s tried to rip out the hinges of the bar, to tear them straight out of solid concrete but his spine won’t allow him to bend that far back to utilize his claws. He’s tried yelling for help, tried howling out to his pack but nobody has been answering him. He’s alone here. Blake hauled him off to somewhere he won’t be found. What he would do to be back in the McCall house, drifting off on the futon with the sound of the TV lulling him to bed.

                Isaac can hear the scraping of a metal door on concrete and swears, clenching his eyes shut. He lifts himself forward a bit, easing the tension off of his spine and stares as two boots come into view, pounding down the stairs and straight towards him.

                When the full man comes into view, combat boots and military fatigues, he dies a little inside. Blake is leering over him again, no doubt ready for round six of propositioning him on joining his pack.

                “That doesn’t look comfortable at all, pup,” Blake shakes his head and clicks his tongue off the top of his mouth.

                “It isn’t,” Isaac bites back. “Care to untie my arms at least?”

                “Care to join my pack?” Blake pushes and Isaac swears, hanging his head. He’s not going to get anywhere in the negotiations. “I thought so…” Blake replies to the swearing. He walks over and reaches out to Isaac, lifting his chin up with a single hand. Isaac averts his eyes, refusing to meet the blood red orbs of the Alpha.

                “It’s day one, pup, so you’re still probably full of hopefulness and optimism that your pack will find you, that they will rescue you and kill me. And that’s okay, I expect that from you. You’re a good beta, a loyal puppy so I’ll allow you this time. As time goes on, you’ll lose hope because they won’t ever find you. You’ll stay down here and you’ll grow hungry and lonely and depressed and eventually you’ll reach out to me and I’ll extended the offer. Someday Isaac,” He lifts Isaac’s chin up and makes him look him in the eye. “You’ll join me and we’ll forgive this instant. The longer you wait, however, the more you’ll wither away and I don’t want to extinguish that hope in your eyes, that loyalty without question. So I will offer you this, one more time, become my beta and I no longer have to suffer at your suffering, down in this cold basement.”

                Isaac jerks his head away and shakes his head.

                “No,” Isaac whispers. “No, I won’t join you. I’ll die first.”

                “”I won’t allow you that pleasure,” Blake smiles. He walks behind Isaac and stands behind Isaac’s chained and lifted arms. Isaac closes his eyes, not knowing what is going to come. He’s faced pain before. He’s faced abuse and he can take this. Instead of pain or lashes or bites, he feels two strong arms on his shoulders, fingers rubbing into the tensed up muscles of his back. Isaac can’t help the rumble in his chest elicited as the pain is massaged away. The fingers work down on his back and stop just above a bandaged area. Below the sterile white dressing is a set of three claw marks, a slashing from when he was kidnapped and when he fought back. His pain subsides temporarily.

                “I’m not cruel to pack,” Blake stops and walks in front of him, crouching down to eye-level.

                “You killed your pack,” Isaac laughs evilly. He’s enjoying the irony.

                There’s a hand against the side of his jaw again. “I killed them because they tried to kill me.”

                Isaac tears his face away from the hand and looks down to the ground. Blake stops.

                “I’ll come back later and, if you’re good, I’ll tie you up in a more comfortable position and I’ll give you food,” Blake tempts.

                “I’m not going to beg you for it,” Isaac states. He knows his breaking point and this isn’t it.

                “You take a lot of abuse without tears, puppy. What in your past conditioned you to this?” Blake asks and Isaac winces, not wanting the memories to surface. “Huh?” Blake asks about his expression. He walks forward again and grasps Isaac under the arms and hauls him up, easing some pressure off of his arms and wrists. “Were you bullied in school?” He asks and Isaac looks away. “That’s not it,” Blake observes. “An older sibling?” Isaac remains expressionless. “Not that either. Did Daddy smack you around?” He asks and Isaac flinches at the mention of his father. Blake removes his hands from below Isaac’s arms and lets him fall back to his knees. Isaac winces as his kneecaps meet cement.

                Blake kneels down and looks Isaac in the eyes. “A beaten puppy, huh?” He asks with an evil laugh. “So someone broke you in already.”

                “He didn’t break me,” Isaac replies, venom dripping from his words. He doesn’t want anyone to speak of his father, to speak of the abuse. It only makes it real.

                “But he did, Isaac,” Blake replies too enthusiastically. “And eventually you’ll be obedient for me.”

                “I won’t,” Isaac replies, wanting to believe his words. 

                You will,” Blake smiles sadly.  “Eventually, when you lose hope because Derek and your pack, they won’t find you, you’re going to call out to me. You’re going to become my Beta.” Blake shakes his head and walks away, heading towards the stairs.

                “You’re wrong,” Isaac whispers. He’s not sure if Blake hears it but it is more for his own comfort.

                If Derek and the pack don’t come soon, he’s not sure how long he can hang onto his strong will. He’s afraid of the oncoming full moon. He hasn’t been without pack before on such a dangerous day and he’s not eager to start. He’s not sure if his wolf will betray him to Blake, if his wolf won’t reach out and accept the pack invitation.

                Isaac whines, his stomach knotting from hunger, his muscles of his back aching from tension and his legs and arms going deliriously numb. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get rather attached to the characters I write so I was writing some of the scenes and sobbing at the same time. Basically, I wanted to release these two chapters together but I wanted people to understand the impact of Isaac's kidnapping on the pack. I wanted to place Derek into this heavy amount of stress and I wanted Ethan to provide a way out of it, as a sacrifice of Stiles' promise to not visit him. I just want this major conflict going on and all of these feelings surfacing. 
> 
> God knows that if we leave Derek on his own, with his pack in tact, he won't cuddle with Stiles on a couch and *gasp* talk about his feelings but he's feeling really guilty and responsible now. Isaac is the last of his pack still alive, the last of the teenagers he's turned. He's trained these kids and only one is still alive and now he has been kidnapped too. He and Stiles are on unsteady ground but he's dating him still and it's wolf instinct to check on your mate, to ensure their safety. With everything falling apart, he's grasping onto remaining strands. 
> 
> But yeah, enough of my own analysis of my own story. I have the next chapter mentally mapped out but it's not on my laptop yet so I have to work on that... I have a lot of things coming up this month but I'll promise I'll continue to routinely update. Also, this is almost at 10,000 views. Guys.... TEN THOUSAND VIEWS. That's insane. This story was received way better than I ever dreamed of and I owe it all to you.
> 
> This monster has grown into 133 pages and whenever my siblings ask me what I'm writing, I tell them a short-story and they think it's like... this original work. I don't have the heart to tell them it's fan fiction. 
> 
> Keep reviewing and commenting and telling me what you think and I'll (regardless of statistics ;D) continue to provide you with good reading materials.


	14. I've Been Hanging Here Too Long (Post-Hiatus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the incredibly long story hiatus, we left Isaac tied up in a basement with Blake, the homicidal Alpha. Now, we return in the same scenario. The pack desperately searches out the missing Beta and Isaac struggles through the emotional torment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't come up with any excuses as to why I haven't updated this story in a long time. I'm just really really sorry. I went back to school and all of my time went into college & working so at the end of the day, when I normally write, I'd just collapse into bed from exhaustion instead. But I have been working on this, I swear! I just never got around to posting! But. I have written five more chapters and intend to post them back to back right now. If you're reading this for the first time or at this chapter after waiting for MONTHS, here it is. I'm sorry for making you all late and thank you for staying with me! I am determined to finish this story even if it's the last thing I do!

       Detectives often say that the first twenty four hours that someone goes missing are the most crucial in finding them. After those initial twenty four hours, the chances of finding the person you lost dwindle dramatically. The percentages fall off like insects introduced to poison. A feeling of hopelessness will set in. You scramble to dig up information that could lead to their recovery but nothing seems to work, nothing seems to lead to them being found.

       Scott is currently digging mud out from the hole in the sole of his boots with a stick, prodding at the torn rubber with a look of immense disdain. Derek and Peter watch on hopelessly, leaning against trees nearby and scanning the surrounding forest with cautious eyes.

      "We’ve been hiking for five hours now,” Peter speaks up, looking at Scott with a smug grin as he snaps the twig he was demucking his old boots with, tossing it angrily at the ground.

      “What do you want me to do?” Derek yells back, tension evident between the three werewolves. “Give up on finding Isaac? Declare him dead? Cease looking for him because you guys are tired?" 

      Scott gives a sympathetic look before shaking his head. “No, I’m just suggesting we go about finding him a different way. It rained last night so any chance of finding a trail to follow the Alpha and Isaac is pretty much slim to none now.”

       “I don’t normally agree with the kid, but I’m agreeing this time. There is no possible way to track the Alpha down by scenting him out now. There was just too much rain. I feel it would be more appropriate to regroup somewhere out of this damn storm and try to find where the Alpha originated from,” Peter speaks up, trying to persuade Derek to abandon his manhunt in the words during the middle of a thunderstorm. They’re all sopping wet, chilled to the bone and frustrated to the point of confusion.

       “I don’t know how we’ll find him any other way,” Derek confesses, tugging at his hair

       “We regroup and do what we were doing before,” Peter offers, walking up to Derek and putting a hand on his shoulder. Derek rolls his shoulders back to push Peter’s hand off. “Scott can meet up with Deaton to look at possible paths and hiding locations and I can look at charts back at the house to see where he came from. Just because we haven’t found anything yet doesn’t mean we won’t find anything ever."

       “Deaton and I narrowed it down to a few places. If we narrow it down to less than that, we might be able to scope out locations,” Scott offers, trying to stop the hopelessness from sneaking into his bones with the cold.

      “Or…” Peter offers, looking guilty. “We can try another option.” He shrugs and looks at Derek who only glares at the ex-Alpha in return.

      Scott looks at both of them like a deer in headlights. “What? What other option?” He questions.

      “No,” Derek shakes his head, looking at Peter angrily.

      “Guys, quit that secret crap. What other option? If it helps us find Isaac shouldn’t we at least try?” Scott offers, crossing his arms.

      “See!” Peter exclaims, exasperated. “He agrees with me.”

      “He doesn’t even know what this other option is yet,” Derek shakes his head again.

      “Okay, let’s tell him,” Peter smiles, his eyes flashing blue for a moment. “Ethan found Stiles in his room last night, apparently,” Peter starts.

      “What?!” Scott shouts. “I thought you were keeping an eye on him?” Scott shouts at Derek.

      “I’m not done yet,” Peter growls. “Ethan found Stiles in his room last night and offered him a deal. If Stiles seeks out Ethan and talks to him, Ethan will share information about Blake’s whereabouts.”

      Scott’s jaw drops and he stares at Derek helplessly.

      “You didn’t trust that did you? Ethan tried to kill Stiles, tried to snuff him out and deceive him. There is nothing good that could come from throwing Stiles back into a trap with Ethan. It would be like sending him to a slaughterhouse,” Scott yells angrily.

       “But it might lead us to Isaac,” Peter argues in response. “Think about it this way instead: Aiden was the one who brought Blake here, used his desire to join the Alpha Pack to send him after Stiles. If anyone knows about where Blake would be at this very minute, it’s most likely Aiden. And if Aiden knows, I’m guessing Ethan got the information to hold it above Stiles’s head. Ergo, Ethan definitely knows something that would help us.”

      Scott doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t argue or open his mouth. He simply stands, back stiff, staring off into the forest in deep thought.

       “You can’t be thinking about it,” Derek yells at Scott. “Stiles is your best friend. You can’t honestly be considering this option.”

      “What if it’s our only option at this point?” Scott replies quietly, exasperated and desperate. “Isaac is a close friend too. It’s weighing the risk of someone potentially getting hurt against the risk of someone definitely getting hurt. You’re the Alpha, Derek. You need to weigh this option. I wouldn’t risk this if I didn’t have some level of confidence that Stiles is going to make it out of this unharmed. He’s my best friend.”

      Peter is looking smug leaning against the tree. He shifts to a tree that occupies higher ground and glares down at his nephew.     

               “I’ve already weighed that option the second it was presented,” Derek replies through clenched teeth. “We can’t be sure that Ethan won’t kill Stiles. He wants to speak to Stiles alone and anything can happen. I’m trying to weigh the risk of losing one pack member versus losing two or more looking for that missing pack member.”

               Scott shakes his head. “I don’t think Ethan wants to kill Stiles anymore. If he wanted to, he would have killed Stiles when he snuck into his room last night. He missed his chance last time and paid for it. He wouldn’t have intentionally made that mistake a second time,” Scott argues.

               “And Stiles isn’t pack,” Peter speaks up, shrugging at the painful truth. “Isaac is wolf. Isaac’s pack.”

               “Stiles is my mate!” Derek growls back, glaring at Peter. Before he can stop the outburst, Derek shrinks back against the tree and pulls his chin to his chest, crossing his arms. He doesn’t meet any of the inquiring eyes or shocked glances. A stunned silence falls in the forest and suddenly the sound of the rain pounding against the ground become clearer and more prominent. You can hear every drop against tree leaves and dirt. You can hear the splash of precipitation against water already pooled on the ground. The forest is suddenly an assault of sounds, of pouring rain and fleeing, crying birds, of insects already cowered under cover and underground. The three werewolves stand in silence, trying to stay dry under the outstretched branches of towering trees. Scott is shivering slightly while he tugs at the sweatshirt clinging to his skin. Streams of water form off his hanging head of hair.

               Scott is the first one to break the silence, clearing his throat uncomfortably and shoving his hands in his pockets.

               “I thought the whole courtship thing ended when Ethan tried to kill Stiles,” Scott scratches at the back of his head uncomfortably.

               Derek doesn’t respond but Peter lifts an eyebrow curiously.

               “Ethan’s courting of Stiles ended when that assassination attempt went down,” Peter answers Scott’s question. “Derek’s however, didn’t. Once you start a courting process, you generally don’t end it. So when Ethan’s courting ended, Derek didn’t have any competition anymore and Stiles became his mate.”

               “Does,” Scott stops midsentence and shakes his head. “Does Stiles know this?”

               “Not yet,” Derek shifts uncomfortably, his voice gruff and broken. “So much has gone on these past few days that I must have forgotten to tell him about the change.”

               “Forgotten to tell him?” Scott looks incredibly confused and enraged now, shaking from the cold and glaring at the Alpha. “You forgot to tell him that, because the last person who was courting him also tried to kill him, you’ve suddenly become his mate _for life_ by default?”

                “He’s still recovering. It’s something we can work around when he’s not recovering from almost dying,” Derek scoffs, looking away.

               A look of realization crosses Peter’s face, and the ex-Alpha steps towards Derek, his posture rigid and warning.

               “You weren’t going to tell him, were you?” Peter accuses.

               “What?” Derek scoffs, rolling his eyes at the accusation.

               “No, I know you too well. You weren’t going to tell Stiles that he’s your mate now. You were going to let him run off with someone else, date other people and get married to someone else all while he’s your mate. The mate doesn’t need the werewolf as much as the werewolf needs its mate.” Peter tries to invade Derek’s personal space, tries to maintain eye contact but Derek shifts behind a tree and leans behind it, avoiding the confrontation.

               “Derek?” Scott asks for conformation of Peter’s assumptions.

               The Alpha doesn’t speak, doesn’t even move. He faces the forest like an ancient guardian, eyes focused out towards the horizon. He doesn’t even seem conscious of the rain falling on him anymore. He’s not shivering despite the fact that he has been standing in the freezing storm for nearly two whole hours now with nothing more than a pair of jeans, a soaked pair of shoes and a t-shirt to keep him warm.

               “I’d hate to pull the whole cliché of “you’ll die without him,” but let me tell you something serious,” Peter lectures, not trying to confront Derek physically anymore. He stands with the tree between them, arms crossed like a stern and cross parent. “Werewolves mate for the companionship. Werewolves are pack animals and being pack animals means they place as much stock in family as humans do, if not more. You weren’t born only human but I can reassure you that heartbreak is as much real as it is painful. If you let Stiles date other people because you don’t want him to deal with the fallout of your decision to court him as a counter-measure, it is only hurting you but it will hurt you deeply. You’ve seen what happens to those of us who lose their mates. They go crazy. They go mad. They go bloodthirsty. You’ll lose the ability to center yourself. You’ll lose touch of that human side. Eventually, these effects will become so severe that they won’t be effecting just you anymore. You’re probably not thinking rationally right now because you’re contemplating a future where you have to watch as Stiles comes to the pack-house with a boyfriend or a girlfriend and it’s _killing you inside._ So do us all a favor and tell him, put your mind at ease and go find your missing Beta. You took the role of Alpha from me now fill the damn shoes, kid. I’m not about to play pack Beta to an Alpha who can’t even look out after his own,” Peter growls.

               Derek turns his head, finally breaking the statuesque appearance. “I’m not emotionally compromised, or whatever you want to call it.” He doesn’t address the rest of the concerns, the allegations, the theories so Scott can’t help but to accept them as the truth.

               “You should tell Stiles,” Scott mutters. “As his best friend I can tell you that he’s completely unpredictable. I know you don’t want denial from your mate, and trust me I understand that, but Stiles might actually accept this whole mating thing. He might not or he might be completely okay with it. I’m not going to take the choice out of his hands but I think you should at least give him the option. If he wants nothing to do with the mating process, that’s his choice but at least you won’t have to live the rest of your life with your wolf in you demanding to hunt down your mate.”

               “This shouldn’t be our biggest concern right now,” Derek yells. “We should be finding Isaac. I have the rest of my life to decide whether or not I want to tell Stiles.  We only have a small frame of time to find Isaac before Blake resorts to drastic measures in order to get him to enter his pack. If Deaton’s analysis was right, he’s going to do anything in his power to break Isaac, to make him think that we aren’t coming to save him. We have to get to him before that happens.”

               “We also have the Alpha Pack itself to deal with,” Peter winces and looks at Derek skeptically. 

               “I’m triaging this the best I can. The lowest of my priorities right now is telling Stiles we’re mates. That can wait until things mellow down. Finding Isaac can’t. After that, the Alpha Pack…” Derek growls, his eyes turning red as he turns to face Peter.

                    “Got it,” Peter smiles and turns away, shooting a grin at Scott as he disappears into the words.

               Scott stands awkwardly against the tree, staring at Derek uncomfortably.   

               “Do you want to question my decision making too?” Derek asks Scott, his eyes still red.

               “No,” Scott holds up his hands in an act of submission and eyes Derek innocently. “I’ll go with whatever plan gets Isaac home and keeps Stiles in one piece.”

               “Go back to Deaton’s,” Derek orders. “Re-look over the map. Deaton is already out talking to other emissaries about potential packs that got wiped out so we can track down Blake. The sooner we find Isaac, the better.”

               “And Stiles?” Scott asked innocently.

               “The only reason I’d ever want to put Stiles back in a room with Ethan alone is if we have exhausted all other options and it’s our only way of finding Isaac.”

               “I meant…” Scott pauses, “The mating thing.”

               “I’ll deal with it,” Derek shrugs and walks off into the woods, leaving Scott alone, staring at his butchered boot in contempt.

               **[Blake’s Den]**

               Isaac has since lost the appropriate verbs to describe exactly how much pain he is in. He’s lost it in between searing agony and unending torment. His wrists have lost all blood flow a long time ago and since he has lost the energy to look up, he can’t even tell which way his fingers are moving or if they are even still attached. His shoulders ache from baring the majority of the weight and his lower back still stings with the past assault of a pair of claws.

               Despite his begging, Blake only repositioned him once. After he tried escaping, breaking through the chains and making it up the stairs, Blake retied him up with his hands over his head, chained and suspended. He’s regretting his past actions while formulating a new plan of attack. His stomach is a pit of endless hunger and all he wants is a large glass of water. He hasn’t been able to sleep more than an hour so far and his eyelids are having trouble staying open. Isaac wants to stretch out, wants to lay down on his back with a full stomach and have his wounds dressed and tended to. Most importantly, he wants to be back with his pack, safe and sound.

               He stares at the walls, scenarios running through his head, scenarios of rescue in order to pass the time and block out the pain from assaulting his every thought. He has since lost track of the time, days blending into nights, seconds blending into minutes blending into hours and god, he can’t keep blocking out how much everything hurts.

               Because he has lost track of the time, he doesn’t know how long it’s been since Blake drops back in to check on him again. He hears the sound of feet descending on the stairs and he can’t help but hold his breath, watching the boots as they come into view with half-lidded eyes and a drooped head.

               “Hey, pup,” a gruff voice greets and Isaac groans, closing his eyes almost completely. “Ouch,” He groans. “You don’t look you’re too comfortable like that.”

               Isaac has long since given up saying anything or even meeting Blake’s gaze. He can’t bear to look at the man who is putting him through this massive amount of pain.   

               “You haven’t said anything in a while,” Blake comments, kneeling down so he’s at eye level with Isaac. Isaac shifts his gaze away but Blake grabs him by the chin and forces Isaac to make eye contact. Isaac’s eyes turn a deep yellow while Blake’s burn a murderous red. Isaac is too weak to fight the grip and he’s in far too much pain. “You’re not going to beg me for food or water or to reposition how you’re tied up?” Blake asks with an air of disappointment. “If you beg me nicely, I might have to say yes…” Blake grins sadistically.

               Isaac doesn’t say anything at all. He hangs there still as a statue and looks at Blake’s blood red eyes, fighting in his head to reassure his wolf that his own Alpha, another wolf with those same shade of eyes, is out there looking for him. He can’t cave in yet. He’s got to be strong. He’s got to buy himself enough time until Derek and Peter and Scott come rushing in for him, claws ready and wolfed out. It’s the only thought that is getting him through the pain, the hunger and the thirst.

               “Still not speaking?” Blake breathes out in disappointment. He shakes his head and stands up and turns around, heading back up the stairs. Once he hears the door upstairs close, he exhales in relief and tries to shift in the chains, the metal digging uncomfortably into his wrists. Even with an increased healing rate, Isaac cannot keep on top of his injuries. He is constantly having his shoulders separated, his wrists chaffed and bruising, his ankles getting friction burns from the chains connecting him to the ground. The hunger is taking a toll and because the claw marks on his back came from an Alpha, he’s healing those at a normal human rate.

               Lost between the thoughts of pain and hunger, something unprecedented happens. Blake comes down the stairs a second time, the sounds of his boots thudding on every descending steps. Isaac swallows in fear and looks away, his eyes and gaze locked steadily upon the concrete ground. When the boots hit the bottom step, they turn and make their way to Isaac. Isaac quivers in fear when the boots stop moving in front of him, knowing full well that the Alpha is staring down at Isaac, in a complete position of power. Instead of delivering a blow or increasing his pain, Blake sets a tall glass of water down in front of his field of view. Isaac shifts uncomfortably, staring at the liquid with incredible desire. Even though it’s within in his field of view however, Isaac knows that no matter how much maneuvering he does within the chains, he will not be able to reach the drink. He’s tested the length in his attempt to formulate escape plans. He knows exactly how far he can go.

               _So,_ Isaac thinks, _he’s spiraled down into emotional torture now. Excellent._

Rather than the taunting that Isaac thinks is inevitable now, Isaac feels a pair of arms wrap around his torso right above the area where he has bandaged claw marks on his back. Isaac tries to fight with whatever strength that he has left but he doesn’t have much energy left and the sheer might of the Alpha’s strength is enough to overwhelm him before he gets far. Blake lifts Isaac up, straight off the ground. Isaac can feel his chained hands, bound together and suspended from a hook on the ceiling, freed from suspension. His shoulders practically scream in relief and his wrists suddenly relax.

        Instead of fighting, Isaac leans into the Alpha for a minute, allowing himself a small respite free of complete and all encapsulating pain. The Alpha shifts his hold on Isaac and unchains his feet. Rather than dropping him, Blake carries him to the back wall. Isaac is too weak to lift his head so his nose is stuffed against the Alpha’s back, having been thrown over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Instead of setting him down on the ground once at the back of the room, Blake shoves at the wall a little and opens a door, one that Isaac hasn’t seen from his position chained facing the stairs. Isaac squirms a little but Blake grasps a little harder at Isaac’s thighs to hold him still. 

        When they’re in a room, he hears the undeniable sound of the door locking behind him. Isaac groans and closes his eyes, ceasing his struggling. If he even gets out of the Alpha’s grip, he won’t get out of the room and even if he _does_ get out of the room, he won’t be able to escape through the second locked door above the stairs. Isaac knows he is truly and desperately trapped again. 

       Before Isaac can contemplate his inevitable doom, he feels himself falling out of the Alpha’s grasp. He struggles a little to reorient himself before his back meets concrete but, before that happens, his back meets a soft surface. Isaac looks up at the Alpha in confusion, realizing he is off the ground by a few feet and laying on a bed.

       “That lovely setup in the other room was only temporary while I was getting this set up. I figured your arms would dislocate if you hung there any longer.” Isaac sits up and winces at his injuries, glancing around the room. Bed, toilet, table, a folded pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and a small rectangular window, the size of two bricks long letting some sunlight sneak in through the glass. Isaac stares at the toilet uncomfortably, realizing now his extended period of time without going to the bathroom.

       Blake laughs for a good minute before he fumbles in his pants pocket, withdrawing a key and exiting the room. The door clicks locked behind him. Isaac is on his feet quickly, stumbling to the toilet and pulling down his pants so he can pee. The satisfaction is instantaneous and he lumbers back to the bed, collapsing on it face down, feeling his eyes close.

       At least he’s more comfortable now while he waits for the pack to rescue him.

       Just as he’s drifting off, Isaac feels hands again, grasping him on the shoulders and turning him over so he’s face up on the bed. Isaac knows its Blake, doesn’t even have to open his eyes to make that assessment. Instead, he just stays limp on the bed, too weak to open his eyes and inquire as to what is going on. A hand on his back forces him to a sitting position and Isaac just wants to sleep. He feels the rim of a glass against his lips and Isaac, out of instinct, opens his lips and lets some liquid fall in. It’s water. Isaac swallows greedily, grateful at the small show of humanity. Blake lets him fall back to the bed after Isaac finishes the glass of water.

       “Good pup,” Blake pats his chest affectionately and Isaac snorts, eyes still closed. “Thinking about joining my pack just yet?”

        Isaac shakes his head into the pillow and mumbles, “Nope.”

        “Thought as much. Don’t worry,” Blake laughs. “Give it time. You’ll cave. Plus, the full moon is in two days.” 

        Isaac’s eyes shoot open instantly and he watches Blake warily. If the full moon is in two nights and he’s still injured, still trapped and away from the pack, he has no clue how his wolf will act. For all he knows, he might fight against Blake instinctively. Worse, he realizes, is if his wolf desperately seeks out an Alpha and he chooses Blake as pack leader, in the absence and hopelessness of Derek actually finding him.

        Blake grins maliciously and pulls a blanket under Isaac’s feet off the bed and throws it at his face.

        Isaac closes his eyes again and falls asleep, one thought haunting the edge of his consciousness.

        If Derek doesn’t find him soon, he’s going to act out of desperation. He won’t let himself turn evil and fall into Blake’s pack. If all hope is lost before the full moon, he’s going to try to escape even if it means getting killed. Suicide by Alpha. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the next chapter isn't up already, it should be soon! 
> 
> I can never apologize enough for making you all wait so long. 
> 
> Thank You 
> 
> R&R? I'd love to see how you guys are doing & what you think!


	15. "There is nothing more deception than an obvious fact"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff digs into new information and Stiles goes to an unlikely person for help.

**[At the Beacon Hill’s Police Station]**

        “I’ve got the results back from the tests you requested, Sheriff,” Mike walks up to Sheriff Stilinski’s desk and hands him a manila folder.

         “These on the poppies?” The Sheriff asks, sipping away at coffee and staring up at the detective with expectant eyes.

         “I believe so. I’m just the messenger here,” He holds up his hands in resignation.

         “Am I going to get a lucky break here before the Captain sacks my ass for not catching another mass murderer in this town?” The Sheriff asks, signing the front of the folder and ripping open the adhesive top.

         “I don’t think you’ll be upset,” He smiles and heads back to his desk.

         The Sheriff grins as he withdraws a stack of papers and reads over the lap reports. He has positive victim identifications now, blood tests, lab samples and geographic locational markers.

         The Sheriff walks up to his case bulletin and withdraws a red sharpie, using the lab samples and reports to circle and encapsulate three large pieces of field in a bright red marker. He thumbs through the papers carefully before setting them down on his desk.

         “I’m heading out to follow a lead,” The sheriff yells to the station and several officers and detective acknowledge his exclamation, giving him their best wishes. “If I don’t phone in every hour,” The Sheriff warns and Mike looks up from his desk.

         “We’ll send in reinforcements. Got it,” Mike nods. “If you find the bastard, you’ll be phoning in for reinforcements anyway, right?”

         “Of course,” The Sheriff smiles and exits the station, remembering his phone call last night with Melissa McCall.

[ **Back with Stiles]**

         Stiles pulls the clinging hoodie off of his torso, trying to keep the fabric from sticking to his bandages. Even the claw marks on his face are still healing so he’s feeling like quite a wreck right now. No doubt his appearance isn’t the greatest but, with all that has happened these past few days, he hasn’t been too focused on impressing the ladies. Hell, he’s still technically in a relationship with Derek.

               However, Derek isn’t exactly a topic of conversation that he wants to address right now. After all, at this very moment, he’s violating Derek’s orders and it’s the precise reason why he’s out on a cold metal bleacher in the middle of any empty playing field with not a single soul around for a few miles. It’s not that he has a masochist side. It’s not that at all. If anything, and he’s beginning to believe this following point increasingly more with every stupid scheme he finds himself pursuing, he’s got more of a martyr side to him than a masochist side. He’s not ruling out the masochist side however, as martyrs up to a point must enjoy pain. Stiles has always fingered human beings as being selfish so therefore a martyr, by their very nature, must have no aversion to pain in order to even consider giving themselves over for the greater good. Right now, Stiles’ friend is chained up somewhere with the homicidal Alpha that almost killed him. Right now, he has a viable way to find him. No matter what Derek has previously said, it’s not like he couldn’t accept Ethan’s offer.

               So Stiles watches the field in front of him carefully, eyeing his watch skeptically. It’s still early in the morning and there’s a slight chill in the air. The grass has some dew on it and his shoes are currently soaked to the socks with all of the condensation. As soon as he sees a figure moving in his field of view, Stiles tenses up and glares at the approaching Alpha with all the anger he can manage. He almost slept with Ethan. He almost joined Ethan’s side. He almost _trusted_ Ethan. Ethan’s every footfall stirs up a churning bitterness and loathing inside of him and although there was once an ember of kindness towards the Alpha pack member, Stiles now knows that no amount of tinder or tender care will breathe life back into that ember. There will never be a fire. There will never be a friendship.

               Ethan crosses the field gracefully and Stiles refuses to meet his eyes as he approaches. Instead of eye-contact, Stiles concentrates on the growing wetness on the hem of Ethan’s pant-legs, the dew of the grass being tossed up by Ethan kicking his feet through the lawn, catching and soaking his jean legs and shoes. The shoes approach closer and closer and there’s a squeak of wet rubber on metal as Ethan takes a seat next to Stiles. Hands cross on a lap and, when Stiles finally looks up again, Ethan is looking at him curiously, almost tenderly.

               “You wanted to talk alone,” Stiles mutters, try to embroider his words with contempt.

               “I did,” Ethan responds. “I wanted to see you again. We didn’t exactly end on a good note.”

               Stiles doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just raises an eyebrow and turns to glare at Ethan.

               “Listen,” Ethan shifts uncomfortably. “I know you hate me and I can’t blame you. I kind of hate me too but…”

               Stiles shakes his head and interrupts him.

               “No, don’t you dare. Don’t try to shift all of the blame to someone else. I realize things spiraled out of control for you but at some point you had the self-control to stop and re-evaluate what you were doing. You could’ve told me that you were courting me out of orders. You could’ve told me that Aiden sent the Alpha after me. At any time while you were trying to court me, you could’ve told me that the endgame was killing me or emotionally forcing me to have sex with you. I’m here because you have information on Isaac and the condition for getting that information, is this conversation right here. So, I will listen to what you have to say. I will nod and look like I’m interested but I will not trust you ever again. I won’t follow you anywhere. I’ll stab you if you touch me. So please, continue. The sooner this is over with, the sooner you can pay some cosmic karma forward to the system and my pack can find Isaac, hopefully alive,” Stiles says quickly. When he ends, he inhales deeply and looks at Ethan with a bored expression.

               Ethan falls into silence for a long time, staring at his hands and back at Stiles.

               “Okay,” he sighs. “I’ll take that. I deserve that and it was my fault as well. I won’t shift the blame. I really just wanted to apologize because there’s no use in explaining anymore. I won’t subject you to a rant or a ‘this is why you should forgive me’ speech. I really just want to give you some information. I made the past few weeks pretty horrible for you so I’ll try to make the next one slightly better,” Ethan smiles and Stiles continues glaring. He’s not trusting the werewolf just because he’s putting on a nice and charitable façade. He’s not going to become friends with him. He’s not going to feel bad. He’s not going to let Ethan feel like the victim here. So he remains silent.

               “The Alpha pack knows that you’re Derek’s weakness. Deucalion wants to use that. However, those plans were put on hold because of the complication with Blake. Deucalion wants him dead and has ordered us to find him. If Aiden and Kali find Blake, they’ll kill Isaac as collateral damage. I’ve already done enough to hurt you so I don’t want that to happen. I’m already being punished for disobeying orders so may as well add fuel onto the fire, right?” Ethan shrugs and grins carelessly.

               Despite the grin, Stiles knows that Ethan is heavily conflicted right now. Stiles knows how to fake a grin like he knows how to tie his own shoelaces. He knows how to plaster on a smile like he knows how to duct tape back on parts of his Jeep when they suddenly start failing. Stiles knows more than anyone what it’s like to have so much internal turmoil going on in his head that the only way to cope is to appear to be anything but dying inside. Ethan’s selling out his pack in an attempt to apologize. Most likely, he’s risking death. It’s enough to make Stiles even feel guilty.

              “If they find you here?” Stiles asks carefully, looking up at Ethan with eyebrows drawn upward.

             Ethan just shrugs and pulls a few sheets of paper out of his jacket pocket. He unfolds them and looks them over carefully. He slaps them against the palm of his hands a few times before looking up. Stiles’ attention is drawn to those pieces of paper.

           “I-,” Ethan starts but stops suddenly. “I didn’t think you would come to talk to me. Didn’t think that mate of yours would let you out of the house to be honest,” Ethan smiles warily.

          Stiles pauses, freezes in his seat. He asks the question that has him shaking, “Mate?”

           Ethan just blinks at Stiles for a few minutes, watching him curiously.

          “He didn’t talk to you, did he?” Ethan assesses, crossing his arms around him. He laughs whole-heartedly for a good half minute before he calms down enough to clear his throat and shake his head. “That’s funny. Derek’s been competing with me to have you as our mate for a while now and when he finally wins, he doesn’t tell you. Wow,” Ethan continues shaking his head, running his free hand through his hair.

         Stiles’ eyes widen. He shakes his head in disbelief and stares off at the field again, taking in the individual blades of grass, the sheen of the grass glistening with the rising sun. He needs to stay on topic. He came to acquire information on Isaac, not to stir up tumultuous feelings and enraged thoughts. He needs to stay true to his alliances.      

        Ethan notices his shift in facial expressions and hands over the sheets of paper.

        “Those two places are Blake’s previously known hideout locations. The latter is where Aiden followed him back once. Deucalion is sending us out the day after tomorrow, on the full moon, to find Blake. If you want to save Isaac, I’d head out tonight or tomorrow,” Ethan nods emphatically and smiles sadly.

         Stiles thumbs through the notes and looks at them curiously.

         “How do I know you aren’t setting us up to fall into another trap?” Stiles asks, remembering briefly when he received a text message from Aiden telling him there was a lead to follow into the forest. He was then attached by a serial killer Alpha and nearly died.

               Ethan frowns and shrugs again. “You don’t know. You won’t know but I am telling you the truth. I’m giving you good information. You and your pack have the advantage in this. I gave you two locations. Send your entire pack to one. Prepare for a trap even though there’s not going to be one. Worst case scenario, there’s a trap and you can fight us or flee. Best case scenario? You kill Blake and save Isaac. I think the turnout is favorable,” Ethan assesses and Stiles regards his words carefully.

             Stiles eventually nods and pockets the individual sheets of paper containing sparse writing and detailed maps. He’s not sure yet if he trusts the contents inside but, regardless, he may be a step closer to finding Isaac that he wasn’t at previously. Ethan hasn’t tried to kill him so far. Ethan hasn’t come onto him so far. Overall, this meeting is going better than Stiles had expected.

           “So,” Stiles looks at Ethan. “Mates?” He pushes and Ethan rolls his eyes.

           “Courting is more or less a transitional process,” Ethan addresses and starts to sound like an instructor. He’s talking emphatically with his hands. “When someone accepts it, sorry again for the deception,” Ethan looks at Stiles apologetically, “It’s sort of like an acceptance of an engagement. There’s plan for a mating. Since Derek and I were in this well, competition, the wedding or the mating was delayed. Now, I uh…” Ethan stops and winces.

           “Tried to kill me,” Stiles asks questioningly, crossing his arms.

            Ethan gulps. “Now I may have tried to kill you so that broke our courtship. That left Derek the one who was uncontested in courting you. In a way, because he won, he proved he was a suitable mate for you so you ended up as mates."

            Stiles pauses for a moment. “But we didn’t have uh,” His brain skips trying to find an acceptable phrasing, “ _intimate affairs_ with each other. I thought that sex was the way courtships were _consummated_?” He questions, trying to get the dirty details.

            “It would work that way if I were still courting you as well. But he won. He got you.”

            “Great, I’m a prize to be won,” Stiles groans, covering his face in his hands.

            “That’s not exactly an insult,” Ethan pats him on the back and Stiles tenses under the physical contact. Ethan withdraws his hand quickly and clears his throat. “But yeah,” Ethan stares off at the rising sun, noticing its current height in the sky. “I would ask Derek about it if I were you Stiles. Werewolves mate for life. Maybe he hasn’t addressed it yet for a reason,’ Ethan suggests.

            Stiles hangs his head a little and kicks at the metal beneath his feet lightly. He stares off at the sky again before leaping to his feet. He stares at Ethan with a small smile. He places a hand over the pocket containing the information regarding Isaac.

            “Uh,” He stutters. “Thank you, I guess,” Stiles smiles and starts turning away.

            Before he can turn away completely, Ethan places a hand on his shoulder and spins him around. Stiles freezes and his eyes widen. He watches Ethan as if he’s expecting an attack to come, some surprise kidnapping to suddenly go down. When it doesn’t, Stiles simply resorts to standing there angrily, a pissed off expression on his face.

           “Sorry, I just wanted to apologize again and say that if you need anything,” Ethan pauses. “Well, I’m here if you have any problems in like, homework or supernatural problems,” Ethan shifts from foot to foot. “Okay, I’m bad at this. If you need anything, you have my number and I’ll be there in a second. For what it’s worth, I hope you guys find Isaac.”

           Stiles doesn’t normally feel this awkward. He can only explain this weird experience as something between a mutual break-up and the departure of two friends who grew close but don’t really know each other anymore. Somewhere along the line he dropped several pounds of anger and replaced them with unfounded guilt. As much as he hates to admit it, he finds himself dropping to an empathetic level of understanding with Ethan. Hell, for an entire day Stiles thought Ethan was the only reason he was alive and breathing. Ethan may still be that very reason, as he bought him enough time back in the woods in order to give him time to escape. He’s still simultaneously pissed that Ethan deceived him, lied to him, complicated his life and forced him into a courtship. He’s deeply enraged that the Alpha Pack has done nothing but ruin his life, cause him torment and hurt his friends since their arrival in town. So as he stares facing Ethan, he’s overwhelmed by all of these things his brain is deciding to express at once.

           So when Stiles smiles carefully and says “Thank you,” again, he might actually mean it this time.

          “Again, for what it’s worth, I just want my pack to exit Beacon Hills so you’ll have peace and quiet around here for a change,” Ethan mutters.

         “Yeah,” He nods. “I need a little peace and quiet in my life. See you, Ethan,” Stiles turns away before he can see Ethan’s expression and he starts heading back to his Jeep, thumbing the sheets in his pockets. He’s not quite sure how he’s going to explain how he acquired the information to Derek or the pack. He’s been considering slipping it under Derek or Scott’s door or something, or at Deaton’s office but with their super-human werewolf hearing abilities, he’s fairly certain someone will hear him coming and will start tracking him down when he leaves. With all the deception that has happened recently, Stiles is beginning to think that honesty will get him farther than lying will.

               He shoots a text message to Scott.

               **To Scott (8:23:03AM): Where are you and what are you doing right now?**

Before putting the information away, Stiles takes out his phone and takes pictures of them as photographic copies. He locks the two sheets of paper in his glove box and sets off to Deaton’s office.  

               **From Scott (8:24:27AM): At the office, looking for leads w/ Derek & Deaton. Why?**

Scott groans at the reference of Derek. He’s sure Scott wouldn’t be too pissed if he went against Derek’s order to follow information on Isaac but he knows Derek is going to be infuriated. He might be killing two birds with one stone and getting both enraged expressions over with at once but it still leaves him feeling kind of anxious.                                                                  

               **To Scott (8:25:59AM): Heading over now. Found something.**

Stiles winces as he hits the send button, not really wanting to see the reply. He drops his phone into the cup holder and flips his keys in the ignition. He turns on loud music to drown out his thoughts and sets out towards Deaton’s vet clinic.

               Eventually, Stiles hears his phone go off from beside him. He taps at the wheel anxiously and, as soon as he is able to muster up the courage to do so and the opportunity thanks to a red light, he opens the unread text message. His eyes widen slightly when he realizes the sender. Derek. Great.

               **From Derek (8:27:06AM): You should be at home resting. Tell me you didn’t go see Ethan for info.**

Stiles doesn’t want to have this conversation over texting. He doesn’t even want to have this conversation at all but he figures it’s the type of discussion that requires face-to-face communication.

               He turns up the music even more, to the point where his ears nearly hurt and turn his phone on silent, placing it back in the cup holder. Trying to keep his thoughts from wandering, he guns it towards Deaton’s office, damn near skidding into the parking lot out of carelessness. Derek’s leaning against the outer door, staring at Stiles with the most pissed off look Stiles has ever seen coming from the Alpha.

               For a brief moment, Stiles considers throwing his Jeep into reverse and skidding out of the situation and heading back home to hide under the covers for the rest of the day, or for the rest of eternity. He knows he can’t however as the information currently locked in his glove box may be the only information they may have towards finding Isaac. If he waits too long to hand over the pieces of paper stowed in his car, it may be too late for Isaac. Stiles doesn’t want that on his conscience.

               So he slows down his speed and turns his music down, gently pulling into a parking spot at the far end of the lot, eying Derek warily. He unlocks his glove box and withdraws the sheets of paper carefully. He’s trying not to appear too anxious, trying to appear like his insides haven’t suddenly turned into a dreadful pit of insecurity, but he’s failing. He steps out of his car anxiously and winces at the pain on his wounds. Even though he’s healing, Blake did a number on him when he attacked him. He supposes he should be thankful that he’s not sprouting fangs or fur but when each step, each breath, hurts he might have liked the alternative. At least he could close the insurmountable distance between him and Scott in their friendship. He may be digging up all the information on dark magic and werewolves that he can but there is this uneasy gap in their friendship that wasn’t there before, probably do in part to the fact that, even though he can dig up all the information, he really can’t understand what Scott goes through on the full moon, every waking day, fighting against enemies. He can’t understand it firsthand.

              Stiles tries to disguise his limp as he walks up to the clinic but he knows it’s pointless. He knows Derek will be able to spot it regardless. Derek doesn’t move when he approaches him. He stares at Stiles angrily but doesn’t even move a muscle. He just stares. Stiles is thoroughly intimidated by Derek’s statuesque appearance and can’t help but slightly hang his head in shame.

               Stiles stands awkwardly in front of Derek like a child waiting for chastisement from a parent, fully knowing he’s done something wrong. When Derek doesn’t say anything after two minutes, Stiles scoffs and tries to push back Derek to find Scott in the clinic. Instead of reaching the door handle, Derek grabs Stiles by the arm and pushes him back against the wall, suddenly up in his personal space. Stiles glares Derek down, getting awful sick of the whole load of manhandling going on towards him this early in the morning. First Ethan, now Derek. It’s like he has a sign on his forehead that says “Push me around.”

               “Let me go, Derek,” Stiles orders. Derek’s angry expression deepens. The Alpha lets Stiles go but stays in his personal space, not allowing him to leave.

               “I told you not to go to Ethan’s,” He grabs the information from Stiles’ hands. “And you went anyway,” he holds up the sheets of paper.

               “Contrary to your belief,” Stiles speaks up. “You actually have no right to order me around. I’m not one of your pack, I’m not a werewolf. Sure you can kill me but you have no right to shove me into walls and tell me what to do.” Stiles pulls his hoodie down and tries to straighten up his appearance. His fingertips graze some of the wounds on his face and he remembers their existence again.

               Derek doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at Stiles, but he opens up the sheets of paper and starts reading them carefully.

               “In case you don’t remember, he tried to kill you,” Derek says quietly, some of the anger out of his words.

               “I remember that better than anyone actually,” Stiles replies smugly, pointing to the wounds on his face. “I can barely walk now without pain and my face is messed up. I know better than anyone what Ethan did.”

               Derek regards Stiles’ appearance carefully before folding up the sheets of paper and putting them in his pocket.

               “I don’t order you around out of some power complex,” Derek scoffs. “I don’t get off on it. When I tell you do to something, it is generally to stop you from being killed.” There’s still anger in his words but now it has calmed down a bit and is beginning to be replaced with another emotion. One Stiles can’t identify yet.

               “Ethan didn’t hurt me,” Stiles shrugs. “I guess he wanted closure or something twisted like that? I just needed the information on Isaac. I-.” Stiles pauses. “It’s kind of my fault that he’s kidnapped anyway. So hopefully that helps us find him.”

               Derek blinks slowly before looking inside the office carefully.

               “It’s not your fault that Isaac got kidnapped. You didn’t kidnap him,” Derek offers. “It’s not your job to go on martyr missions to get information so you could atone for crimes you didn’t even commit.”

               Stiles doesn’t believe that but he knows Derek will keep addressing the topic until he drops it.

               “It’s not really your job either,” Stiles states,

               “It’s my job to keep my pack safe.”

               Stiles turns and faces the parking lot, looking out at the street.

               “Can we trust that information?” Stiles asks, turning back to look at Derek’s pocket. He knows he’s changing the subject in an obvious way but he wants to get the topic of conversation off of fault and self-depreciation.

               “It matches up with what we’ve found so far but I’m going to constantly remain skeptical given the source,” Derek suggests.

               “Ethan told me that Deucalion is going to send him and Aiden out the day after tomorrow to hunt down Blake. They’re going to kill Isaac as collateral if they get there first,” Stiles shares. “We’ve got to find him before that.”

               “And me and Scott and Peter, we will,” Derek reassures.

               “No,” Stiles shakes his head, realizing the phrasing. “I can help find Isaac.”

               “You can help by going home, Stiles,” Derek orders.

               “Oh c’mon, don’t shut me out now. I can help,” Stiles urges.

               “We can’t be worrying about protecting you when we’re busy fighting Blake and looking for Isaac,” Derek remains adamant in his position.

               “I don’t need to be protected,” Stiles scoffs.         

               “You’re injured,” Derek stares Stiles down.

               “I helped before with the wolfsbane and the mountain ash. It’s my fault Isaac got kidnapped, let me in on this one.”

               “Stiles, go home!” Derek yells.

               Stiles had another argumentative comment lined up but it’s silenced by Derek’s yelling. He simply looks at his shoes and back up at Derek’s gaze.      

               A statement crosses his mind _“Maybe he hasn’t addressed the mating issue yet for a reason.”_

“Yeah,” Stiles hangs his head. “Tell Scott I’m uh,” Stiles stutters and looks towards his Jeep, fumbling with the keys in his pocket. “Never mind that, I’ll text him later. Just send me a message when you get Isaac, yeah? I’ll be…” He finds his keys and withdraws them from his pocket. “back at the station. Got to fill out some paperwork on that ‘car crash’! Good luck.” Stiles turns away quickly and walks with fastened pace back to his car. Behind him, Derek calls out.              

               “Stiles!” He yells, realizing Stiles is too far away. “God damn it,” He mutters, slamming a fist into the wall behind him. Watching Stiles peel out of the parking lot, he shakes his head and sighs, heading back into the clinic slowly to share the information that Stiles handed him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up as soon as I post it!


	16. "Gentle sleep! Scatter thy drowsiest poppies from above"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff is closer than the pack to realizing the truth and Stiles is worried for his father's safety.

      **[With Sheriff Stilinski]**

               The Sheriff figures that either location he picks has a 50/50 chance of having the mass murderer in close proximity to the farm. He caught a lucky break, fortunately. Forensics didn’t find any evidence like hair, extraneous blood and no identifiable DNA to tie a certain person to the killer of the victims. There was no lead with the plastic wrap used. There was no link with the burial style. The actual connection came from the flowers used to cover the graves of the victims. Rather than the typical golden style of California poppies, a botanist consultant was brought in and determined that the poppies used in the crime scene were a genetically modified variation of the plant. Part of the lucky break was due in part to the fact that the farmer who owns the genetically modified poppies also distributes them to funeral homes and florists in town. Another part of it was the fact that the genetically modified plants were a specific modification, resulting in a deeper color and a deep red colored stem. Of the farmers and greenhouses in the entire area around them, and nearly the entire state, only two farms had fields with this exact strain of genetically modified poppy.

               Having canvased the first farm and having seen no specific leads to murder, he’s fairly certain the clues he’s looking for will be found in the farm he’s heading to right now. He has his windows down, soft music coming from the radio and a good feeling in his chest that he’ll find what he’s looking for. The first farmer was real nice and cooperative, letting the Sheriff search his house even before Sheriff Stilinski had to pull out the warrant he had in his pocket. The house was neat and tidy and the farmer’s wife, an elderly lady with gray hair and a floral dress on, offered him a homemade glass of lemonade as he was searching the basement. Now, the Sheriff was trained and drilled not to make assumptions without cause but if he had to find someone who definitely wouldn’t fit the role of a mass murderer, it was the farmer and his family. The field with the poppies was set close to the house and other properties were sparse and a few miles away. The farmer hadn’t had any visitors or reports of substantial amounts of field desecration. The Sheriff taps anxiously away at the steering wheel, wanting to get to the second field and close his case so he could head home and check on Stiles. The poor kid went through an awful lot these past few days and, if Melissa was right about her phone call, he’s still going through an awful lot more. Not only does he want to solve this case for ethical reasons, the case hits home.

               The Sheriff knows when he’s close to the field as soon as the houses become more few and far between. When the gradual city sprawl turns into fields of nothing but livestock and produce, he’s giving it a good guess that he’s approaching the residence of the alleged mass murderer. The Sheriff looks over the sheets in his hands, containing the address of the field. When he sees the address printed on a mailbox, he pulls down the winding dirt road and heads up to a quaint house behind a large towering red barn. There’s an elderly man reclined on the tiny porch of the quaint house, staring off at the fields with a comfortable ease. He barely twitches a muscle as he sees the Sheriff pull up in his unmarked truck. The Sheriff takes a quick inventory of his gear, tucking the case leads into the front pocket of his uniform and stepping out of his car with a non-threatening air to his gait. 

               Upon taking note of the Sheriff, the elderly man gives a friendly tip of his worn-out, tattered baseball cap, shooting a friendly smile with the gesture. The Sheriff reciprocates the gesture, tipping his hat as well as he approaches the house.

               “What can I do for you today, Sheriff?” The old man asks calmly. 

               “Well,” The Sheriff addresses, looking up at the man as he rests one foot on the man’s porch. “I’ve been looking into some murders that have been taking place in Beacon Hills recently. Wouldn’t know anything about that would you?” 

               The old man looks over the Sheriff before speaking. “I don’t know anything about any murders but isn’t this tiny town of yours a little out of your jurisdiction? Beacon Hills, you say?” He scratches at his beard and tugs at his t-shirt, perspiration evident on his forehead.

               “It is but when we collaborated with your local authorities, they gave us the okay to investigate. We have the resources after all,” The Sheriff shrugs, trying to maintain a friendly appearance. The man so far has been rather nonthreatening after all. He digs a bagged poppy out his pocket carefully, handing it to the man. “We found these on the victims. Genetically modified says our botanist and we linked the strain back here. Do you recognize it?”

               The old man takes the flower and flips the bag over two or three times before nodding. “Sure do. Sheila planted them two or three years back in the outer lot. I don’t know what they’d be doing out in your town though. I can’t even leave my house anymore. Doc had the government take my license away due to my sight,” He indicates the state of his eyes, one of them cloudy white with the tell-tale signs of glaucoma. “Don’t even have a truck anymore either. Sold it. Sheila catches a ride with Steph Atkin for the groceries,” He groans and leans forward in his seat. “But I’ve got a theory.”

               “Care to share?” The Sheriff smiles, taking the offered poppy back and storing it within his pocket.

               “The area where the poppies are planted,” He points out to the outer field where the ground gives way to a transitional color of varying shades and hues of purple, pink, deep gold, orange and yellow. “Whereas I use the inner field for vegetables and herbs, Sheila uses the outer field for a small florist side-business she has. These past two summers, since she started turning the fields over, I’ve noticed a lot of damage to the crops. Large portions of her flowers started to go missing. Still do really. She loses some profits from her business because of the damage. I think she lodged some paperwork complaint with the county office here but no cops are going to come out for field damage. If you find who has been messing up my fields, you may find who has been killing those people.”

               The Sheriff looks at the field inquisitively, noticing several patches of empty ground scattered randomly across the landscape. 

               “Got any suspicions on who it might be?” The Sheriff asks, turning to the old man.

               “Only one,” The old man smiles, pointing again to a medium-sized house on the horizon of the field. “Blake Moore,” he comments. “Lives in the house over there. A bit crazy if you ask me; goes out only at night, disappears for days at a time, oddly antisocial and crazy aggressive. If anyone’s a mass murderer who has been messing up my fields, it’s him.”

               The Sheriff nods and tips his hat one more time. “Thank you, sir. It was really helpful.” He turns his back and starts heading back to his truck.

               “I wouldn’t drive straight up his driveway to the house though,” The man suggests and Sheriff Stilinski turns around. “Went over there once to talk to him about my fields and he pulled a shotgun out of his house and damn near shot at me. You’d be better off walking up. You won’t give him the warning you’re coming then.”

               The Sheriff stands still for a moment and looks at his options carefully.

               “Then again, you won’t have anything to hide behind is he does start shooting. Either way, caution is recommended Sheriff,” The old man tips his hat again.

               The Sheriff sighs. “Caution is what my career entails. Thank you,” He heads back to the car and drives it away from the house.

               Sheriff Stilinski parks his car outside Blake Moore’s driveway and pulls out his cell phone, phoning the number for the police station.

               When someone picks up, he starts speaking. “Yeah, it’s Sheriff Stilinski. I’m just checking in again, Mike. I’ve got a small lead. A Blake Moore lives by a field were the poppies were stolen from, the second one on the list that you gave me. According to his neighbor, he seems like the mass murderer type, if there is such a thing as that. I’m going to check in on him, see if I can find anything.”

               “Need back-up now?” Mike questions from the other end of the line.

               “Not at the moment. I’m just going to look around for a bit, see if I can see anything. If I find anything incriminating, I’ll do the old leave-like-nothing’s-wrong-and-come-back-with-reinforcements thing,” The Sheriff smiles.

               “Got it,” Mike comments. “Phone back in. I’ll have a team on standby here.”

               “Much appreciated,” The Sheriff comments. “Talk to you again soon.” He hangs up and walks out of his truck, examining the house carefully. Unlike before, no one is out on the porch. The front lawn of the house is kind of beat up with the grass overgrown in many areas and weeds growing in patches around untrimmed trees. The house gives Sheriff Stilinski a bad feeling; the shades are all drawn shut and even though the door looks locked like no one is home, a truck is sitting in a patch of dirt by the house.

               Sheriff Stilinski walks the dirt road up to the house, constantly on the look-out for any signs of danger. As he approaches the house, he can hear the locks on the front door being pulled open. The Sheriff’s hand subconsciously moves closer to the holster of his gun, watching the door with undivided focus. Eventually, the door is pulled open and a man stands in the doorway watching the Sheriff with interest.         

               “Hello there,” the man speaks. “Can I help you?”              

               “Blake Moore?” The Sheriff asks, looking around the lawn carefully. No signs of stolen flowers, excess of plastic wrap, mounds of poppies or dead body parts anywhere amongst the long blades of grass. Of course it’s never really that easy.

               “Yes sir,” He answers, stepping down to the first step of the porch.

               “I’m Sheriff Stilinski from Beacon Hills. Can I ask you some questions about some murders that have happened in my town?” He asks, watching Blake for any signs of danger.

               “Oh,” He smiles. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got nothing but free time today. Murders you say? How awful. What brought you here though, Sheriff?” His posture changes to be more welcoming and the Sheriff is a bit thrown off by his demeanor. To be honest, the Sheriff was expecting a creepy middle-aged man with worn-out clothing who threatened to shoot him if he stepped one more foot onto his property. The Sheriff expected a fire fight. This was the exact _opposite_ of what he expected.

               “Investigating a lead into some missing poppies, actually,” The Sheriff looks around smiling at the bizarreness of the phrasing.

               “Poppies? You’ve been talking to Old Ryan over there haven’t you? Man’s always been suspicious of me. I work nights in the town and he can’t get that through his farmer head. He’s on a sunrise to sunset schedule not my sunset to sunrise one. But I’m sure you don’t want to listen to me rant about my neighbors in this sun. Why don’t you come in?” He asks, stepping up to his door and holding it open for the Sheriff.         

               “Thank you,” The Sheriff nods, eager to get the sun off the back of his neck. It’s approaching noon and the sun is high in the sky now. The perspiration is building up under his arms, on the back of his neck and the places where his uniform is a tiny bit too tight for comfort. As Blake Moore hasn’t given him the creeps yet, he supposes it’s logical to take refuge when it’s offered. Plus, the officers at the station are well aware of where he is right now. The Sheriff walks through the offered door.

               “I’ve got to admit,” The Sheriff smiles. “I was expecting less of a warm welcome.” He laughs.

               Blake chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “Again, probably Ryan. He’s got it out for me I tell you. Thinks I’m messing up his fields or something like that. Even his wife, as nice as she is, is starting to believe his lunatic rantings. What did he tell you? I threatened him with a shotgun?”

               The Sheriff follows Blake into a kitchen where Blake pulls out a seat at the kitchen table and offers it to Sheriff Stilinski. “Coffee?” He asks and the Sheriff shakes his head.

               “Yeah, he was reminiscing on the time he came to visit you about his missing flowers and you greeted him with the barrel of a shotgun,” The Sheriff gave a skeptical look.

               “It’s funny how a story differs when two people tell it,” Blake laughs. “His version is one where he’s the innocent victim and I’m the aggressor. My version is where he came to my house piss drunk at 6 in the morning with a buck knife and demanded I pay reparations to his wife for her missing flowers.”

               The Sheriff winces, “Ouch. Did you report it to the cops?”

               Blake waves a hand dismissively at the comment. “When you live this far out, you best handle your own problems because the cops aren’t going to respond for a long time. Plus, his wife has to put up with his PTSD craziness and it’s already a burden on her without adding on the need for her to bail her husband out of jail at the crack of dawn. I handled it. He hasn’t tried since,” Blake grins. “But again, I’m sure you didn’t come here to listen to my squabbles about Ryan Keane. So, you wanted to know about some murders?” Blake asks, fumbling around at the kitchen counter in an attempt to pour himself a cup of coffee.      

               “Yeah,” The Sheriff clears his throat. “But seems like a damn waste now,” He smiles. “We found a certain type of poppies at the scene with the victims and it led me here. So I’ve been looking in to anyone who lives around Mr. Keane’s field for any information I can gather.”

               Blake shrugs. “I wouldn’t know much about any murders. If I’m not at home, I’m out at work. Even if I was bat crazy, I wouldn’t have time for anything like that,” Blake laughs.

               The Sheriff hears a quiet banging coming from the basement and his hearing piques up in interest. Blake looks at the basement door and back at the Sheriff with a fallen expression. Blake sets his cup of coffee back on the counter.

               “Man,” Blake shakes his head. “I’ve been working on that damn steam radiator for two days now and it’s still making that banging noise. It might be broken.”

               The Sheriff nods emphatically. “Want me to take a look at it? I’m pretty good with a set of tools if I don’t say so myself.”

               “Nah,” Blake dismisses. “I’m fairly certain the thing is about to go anyway. These are its dying breaths if you will. If it doesn’t break soon, I’m going to have to replace it,” Blake shakes his head. 

               “You mean if it breaks soon you’ll have to replace it?” The Sheriff catches the grammatical slip.     

               “What?” Blake asks, caught by surprise.

               “You mean you’ll have to replace it if it breaks,” The Sheriff comments. “You said you’ll have to replace it if it doesn’t break.”

               “Yeah, yeah,” Blake assures with a smile. “That’s what I meant. Sorry. Haven’t really slept yet.” He comments.

               The banging continues and the Sheriff looks towards the basement.

               “Don’t worry about it,” Blake dismisses. “I’ll get someone over to look at it tomorrow.”

               The Sheriff nods and stands up, looking over the kitchen. “Well, guess I have hit a dead end. Time to head back to the station I believe. Thanks for your time Mr. Moore.”

               Blake nods empathically. “Not a problem at all Sheriff, I’m just sorry that I couldn’t help more. I hope you catch the man you’re looking for.”

               “Me too,” the Sheriff agrees and makes his way out to the door. He walks outside and stands on the porch for a long minute. He stares off at the fields with a sigh, sad the poppies haven’t led him to anything definitive. He was so sure of the gut reaction he had earlier in the car. He thought he was going to find the bastard that murdered people and wrapped them up with plastic wrap. So far, all has found are courteous people in the country side who were more than willing to give him information and hospitality. He doesn’t know what to do now in terms of hunting down the murderer and he’s getting increasingly more upset with every passing hour that he is no longer sure if he can uphold his promise to Melissa McCall.

               The Sheriff’s gaze drifts across the colorful field slowly, taking in the planted crops, his vision crossing a tree or two, overgrown grass and a dismantled Land Rover to the left of the house. Beyond that, the land drops off to a ravine of sorts, wildflowers become the dominant fauna of the landscape here. The Sheriff takes in the beauty while a growing sense of discomfort and disappointment set into the pit of his stomach. He overlooks the ravine with scanning eyes, noticing where the land bulks up in some areas. As opposed to the natural flats of the fields that the farmers sow, the ravine is full of random hills, of dirt that is pushed up almost systematically. His eyesight is drawn towards these random hills, noticing a pattern.

             The Sheriff walks to the edge of the porch to get a better view of the drop off. It is then that the Sheriff can finally place his sense of discomfort. The random hills in the ravine aren’t so random and the Sheriff can instantly connect the image with another in his mind. Rather than the hills being a statistical happenstance of nature, they’re man-made and deliberate. Bright orange flowers lay withering in the sun on top of the hills, covering them in a blanket of stems and petals. The second image in his mind, an identical match to the scene in front of him, is an image from the crime-scene before the victims were uncovered. It’s the exact same and the Sheriff knows that if he approaches close enough, pulls away some flowers and a light dusting of dirt, he’ll find cold and rotting bodies cocooned up neatly in plastic wrap.

        The Sheriff, having connected the images mentally, instantly goes to un-holster his gun. He withdraws it in one fluid motion and points it towards the doorway where he guesses Blake is standing. When he sees no one in his field of view, the Sheriff’s instinctual police training kicks in and he begins scanning the area in front of him for a sign of a threat. Mentally he’s kicking himself for not realizing that Blake, the entire time, was deceiving him. Blake is the murderer. Blake is a deranged psychopath and has killed and draped and displayed his victims in a grotesque pseudo-artistic manner and here Sheriff Stilinski was chatting to him about his neighbors and an allegedly faulty steam radiator. He should have realized it sooner. The Sheriff spots something moving in front of him and Blake eventually comes into view.

        “You should have left, Sheriff,” He warns, his tongue clicking against the top of his mouth. “You should have left the trail to grow cold.”

        “I would have found you eventually,” The Sheriff warns, pointing his gun in picture-perfect Weaver stance against the incoming mass murderer suspect.

         “That I’m not entirely sure about,” Blake smiles a sadistic grin, his teeth seemingly sharper and his eyes picking up a hue of red. The Sheriff surmounts this to a trick of the light, a deception from the sympathetic nervous system thanks to all the flowing adrenaline in his system.

         “Blake Moore, you’re under arrest for the murder of over fifteen people. Put your hands up and get on the ground. If you fail to comply, I will shoot you,” The Sheriff warns, unwavering in the face of danger.

“No offense, Sheriff but I have no intention of letting you arrest me,” He smiles. “Not when everything is falling perfectly into plan.” The Sheriff’s finger on the trigger hesitates, desperately itching to place pressure and forever silence a bad man. He doesn’t act on the impulse.

               Blake shakes his head once before rushing straight at Sheriff Stilinski. Within a split second, the Sheriff pulls the trigger on his gun, eliciting a loud sound and a bullet lodging itself right in Blake’s shoulder. This does nothing to slow down the Alpha, only seeming to enrage him more. The Sheriff tries to shoot again but before he has time to pull the trigger a second time, Blake is suddenly behind him, an arm wrapping tightly around Sheriff’s neck. Blake effectively puts the Sheriff in a sleeper hold. Aligning with his extensive training, the Sheriff tries his best to overpower Blake. He pushes down on the hold and tries to throw Blake forward, leaning down and shifting his abdomen inward. Blake doesn’t relent, he simply tightens the grip and soon, Sheriff Stilinski is gasping desperately for air. A few seconds after that and his vision is filled with specks of gray and black. His fighting instincts kick in full-fledged now but despite his hardest efforts, efforts that have worked previously in a similar situation, he cannot overpower Blake and get out of the choke hold. He feels his limbs growing heavy with oxygen deprivation. His head is swimming with inevitable, of ‘what ifs’ and contingency plans. Thoughts cross his mind that he’ll never wake up again, that he’ll never head home again. He thinks that he might never see the police station, he might never see Blake brought to justice, he might never see his own son again. Soon, he might be one of the victims under a thin layer of earth, many layers of plastic wrap and a sick twisted offering of a blanket of golden, sun-colored poppies. It’s not exactly the grave he ever wanted. So he fights. He fights harder and more desperately and with such urgency that his muscles start screaming for him to breathe. Eventually, the oxygen deprivation meets up with him and his vision grows black. His muscles go limp. He falls to the cement porch with a heavy thud, the mid-day sun harshly beating down on him as much as the imminent danger is beating down on him. The wildflowers are his last vision as he passes out.

**[With Stiles- Beacon Hills Police Station]**

               Stiles is fiddling around at his father’s desk while the rest of the detectives watch on with amused smiles. He’s not too comfortable right now. The chair rubs against the wounds of his legs and the seat, while supplying proper posture support to elderly folks who need it, it’s nothing more than another hard seat cushion to him.

               Sure his mind is running wild with worry for Scott and Derek as they hunt out Isaac. There’s worry there for his father also, as there always is when he’s out in the field on a dangerous case. He can’t stop thinking about Ethan’s words and Derek’s anger. He can’t stop thinking about how his life was uprooted this past year and how all of his preconceptions of High School were shattered in the span of a week, right around the time his best friend became a werewolf with a monthly furry problem. Still, he taps away at his father’s computer, fiddling around on the internet, in order to occupy the time.

               “Mike,” Stiles shouts, not looking up from the screen and suddenly startling the detective at his desk.

               Mike looks over and shakes his head laughing. “Yes, Stiles? How can I help you?” He screams back in a similar volume. The rest of the people in the office are glaring at them in contempt, obviously annoyed with their volume level.

               “Where did you say my Dad went again?” Stiles asks, still typing away at the keyboard.

               “I didn’t because you don’t need to know about the leads in the case,” Mike grins and continues fiddling around with some paperwork on his desk.

               “Not specifics, Mike. I know the deal. In a general, nonspecific sense, where did my father go gallivanting off to?” Stiles ask, finally looking away from the screen and folding his hands innocently in front of him on the desk.

               Mike looks around the station house for a minute before shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

               “I always told your father I’d get fired one day because of you,” Mike stands up and walks over to the desk. “Well, son of Sheriff, your father is tailing a suspect in Pinehurst wanted for the murders. He found a likely suspect and is currently at his house questioning him.”

               Stiles feels that sense of impending doom in the pit of his stomach again. He feels the adrenaline rushing through his blood stream, feels his mind start coming up with wild scenarios and even though Mike hasn’t said anything specific, Stiles knows exactly who he is questioning.

               “Is he there without back-up?” Stiles asks, his face paling.

               “He’s calling in every hour and he called me up two minutes before you arrived ten minutes ago. Everything is peaceful so far, Stiles. No signs of danger. He said he’d call if he needed anything,” Mike reassures with a small smile.  Stiles fidgets even more in his seat, dread coming in waves now to his subconscious.

               “So Mike, like…” Stiles trails off. “I know we aren’t supposed to go into specifics here but by any crazy random freak happenstance is the suspect he’s currently questioning a man named Blake?” Stiles winces and looks at Mike, preparing for the death blow.

               “Stiles,” Mike’s eyes narrow and he glares at Stiles suspiciously. “Why do you know information on the case? You haven’t been reading my case files have you? I know your father is the Sheriff and all but it’s still illegal.”

               Even before the first question is asked, Stiles has risen from his chair and starts fumbling in his hoodie for his car keys. He makes a mental note to invest in a belt clip for his keys as to avoid the awkward pre-panic search.

               “Stiles!” Mike yells. “Where are you going? Stiles if you jump into this case, your father is going to kill me!” Mike warns but Stiles is already booking it with painfully long strides towards his Jeep. “God damn it!” Mike swears, heavily putting his fist down on the Sheriff’s desk.    

               His father is currently investigating Blake, having an allegedly civil conversation in his house with the Alpha werewolf that damn near killed him. His father is there without back-up, without knowledge of the danger he’s gotten himself into. Worse yet, his father is so close to where Isaac is being kept but has no clue about Isaac’s abduction.

               Stiles is pulling himself into his car within seconds, fumbling through his glove box before realizing he handed Ethan’s information over to Derek. He’s desperate now, grabbing at his cell phone with shaking hands, pounding furiously at the contact information under his favorite list. He shoves his keys into the ignition and is quickly pulling out of the parking lot heading for the freeway.

               After two rings from the other side of the phone, Stiles is getting anxious, pounding at his wheel in a panic.

               “Come on, please,” He pleads. “Answer!”

               After four rings, the other end of the line picks up.

               “Scott!” Stiles yells quickly, wasting no time.

               “Stiles?” Scott sounds confused on the other end of the line. “What’s wrong? You sound panicked…” Scott worries. Stiles can suddenly hear Derek yelling in close proximity to Scott.

               “Damn right, I’m panicked,” Stiles is rushing, trying to maintain attention on both the phone call and the road in front of him. “Listen, I need you to do me a favor real quick. You’re going to refuse, I know you are but just give me the information and hear me out. I handed Derek two sheets earlier today with possible information on Blake’s whereabouts….” Stiles trails off, swearing as he almost hits a car by merging into a lane without looking over his shoulder or in his mirror. He makes a snap mental decision to pull over to the shoulder of the road in order to avoid complicating this entire situation by getting into a fatal or near-fatal car accident.

               “Yes, I know. I have them in my hand. We’re heading out to the first location right now. Stiles what is going on?” Scott is panicking now too and he can hear Derek still yelling in the background along with Peter trying to silence them both. “Derek, no. You have your own phone,” Scott yells.

               “What two locations are on the sheets? One is in Pinehurst, right? What’s the address on it? Which one are you heading to?” Stiles is swearing and hyperventilating now.

               “No, we’re heading to the one in Tulare County now. Three-fourths of the way there now, actually. Yeah,” Stiles can hear the crinkling of sheets. “The second is in Pinehurst. Uh, the address is 342 East Hill Road, Pinehurst. I answered your questions, man… now answer mine!” Scott yells and Stiles has the strongest urge to throw his phone out the window and drive straight to the address right now.

               “Listen to me, Scott!” Stiles yells, trying to calm himself down. He reaches into the glove box and pulls out an inhaler, swearing as he struggles to breathe. He takes a puff followed by a long inhale and coughs violently.

               “Holy shit, Stiles. Is that your inhaler? What’s going on?” Scott is still panicking on the other end of the line and again, he can hear Derek yelling loudly.

               “You’re going to the wrong one. Blake is at the location in Pinehurst. Scott, my father is there. My father found Blake and was investigating into him. He doesn’t have back-up. He could be hurt, he could be dead, he could be…” Stiles stops and shakes his head. “I can beat you there. You’re already far out of the way. I’m going to find my father.”

               “What? Stiles, No! No! Stay home. Derek,” Scott’s voice becomes quieter. “Pinehurst,” Scott addresses and Stiles is swearing loudly. “We’re heading there now Stiles. Stay away from Blake. He’ll kill you if he sees you again. We’ll get Isaac and your father back. Please, just don’t go to Pinehurst,” Scott begs.

               Stiles shuts his eyes tight and puts his head against the steering wheel, making another drastic decision.

               “Scott, I can’t. He’s my father. He’s the only family I have left,” Stiles replies quietly.

               “Derek, hands off!” Scott yells. “Eyes on the damn road! Stiles, I know,” Scott replies back. “I know he’s the only family you have left but I will get him back for you, I promise. Just don’t go to Pinehurst. You stand no chance,” Scott begs still and Derek and Peter are yelling even louder in the background.

               “I’m sorry,” Stiles shakes his head and hits the “End Call’ Button on his phone. He feels like a terrible human being but he has to do this. Before Scott can call back, Stiles is flipping through his contacts and hitting another name.

               This time, the person on the other line answers in two rings.

               “Stiles!” Ethan yells happily. “Why are you calling?” He asks.

               Stiles is swearing and hitting his head against the steering wheel, gritting his teeth. This is the only option he has left that doesn’t involve his or his father’s death.

               “Ethan, I need your help,” Stiles begs.

               “Sure. Anything. What’s going on?” Ethan asks, his voice picking up tones of concern.

               Stiles sighs and shuts his eyes, trying to shut out the sound of traffic whizzing around outside his car.

               “Blake has my father. I’m going to go get him.”

               “What?” He hears fumbling on the other end of the line. “Fuck, Stiles. No. Blake’s an Alpha. Send the pack after him.

               “I can’t,” Stiles damn near whimpers, “They’re out in Tulare County. It’s going to take them a long time to drive back and then to Pinehurst. I can’t wait that long.”

               Stiles hear the sound of a door slamming shut and the identifiable noise of an engine spurring to life. “I’m in my car now. I’m heading to Pinehurst. I can only assume you’re heading out there now. Wait for me, okay? Don’t confront Blake without me! I’ll be your backup,” Ethan reassures.

               “Yes, I’m just at the entrance to the freeway now. I’ll meet you there. I’ll stay in the car,” Stiles responds. He’s shaking all over, anxious to get back on the road and close the distance between him and his father.

               “Okay, I’ll trust you to not run head-first after Blake. I’m only a minute behind you now. Be careful, Stiles. Text me the exact address. Thank you for calling me though.”

               “See you there,” Stiles hangs up and texts Ethan the address before he throws his phone into the passenger seat, shoving his car into drive and merging back on the freeway, heading for Pinehurst.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep going! I'll have up to chapter 20 done tonight!


	17. We Both Shall Dine, In Hell Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles & Ethan arrive at Blake's place and confront the Alpha

            The drive is incredibly long and is tearing away at all of Stiles’ emotional blockades. As the time passes while he’s driving the likelihood of his father being hurt or in danger increases exponentially. A second of time where is father is with a homicidal Alpha is a second too much outside of his comfort zone. He feels a little reassured that there’s another Alpha supposedly behind him and another Alpha with his pack tailing behind them by about ten or fifteen minutes. He knows, in the back of his mind however, that this situation will only end in murder, violence and definite death for one of the parties involved. He’s just desperately hoping that it isn’t one of his friends. Actually, he’s amending that last statement by hoping that death finds only Blake today.

               Stiles can make out Ethan’s car in his rearview mirror as he enters Pinehurst, the Alpha having closed the difference behind them by driving with reckless abandon more so than Stiles is doing right now. Stiles is just lucky that all of the state troopers for miles know his car by now from the forewarning they got from his father. Eventually he got tired of paying all of the speeding tickets and fines. Now they just kind of tail behind him and flash their lights in warning.  

               Stiles, having finally conquered the overwhelming anxiety on the trip over, falls back into an unfathomable fear when he sees his father’s truck parked at the end of Blake’s driveway, far away from the house. Stiles quickly pulls over, parking his Jeep behind the truck. He gets out and looks in his father’s truck, noticing nothing in plain view. Ethan pulls up behind Stiles, quickly turning off his car and running outside.

               “He has your father?” Ethan asks urgently, looking at the house in the distance at the end of the driveway.

               Stiles just turns around and nods grimly.

               “Shit, okay,” Ethan looks around and pockets his keys and his phone. “Okay,” He takes a deep breath. “I’d tell you to stay here but I’m assuming that you’re not going to listen to that?” Ethan phrases it as a question so Stiles responds appropriately by shaking his head in affirmation. Ethan sighs. “At least let me go in first in case he attacks and I can only assume that he will. I’ll fight him and you go and find your father and Isaac,” Ethan orders, looking Stiles straight in the eyes.

               Stiles nods and gestures to the driveway, allowing Ethan to go first.

               “If things go down, I don’t care if you have objections to it, I want you to leave as fast as you can and either wait for Derek or, here,” Ethan hands over his phone. “You’ll hate me for phrasing it like this but call Deucalion and get the hell out of here.”

              Stiles hands the phone back quickly and shakes his head. “There is no way in hell that I’m calling Deucalion.”

               Ethan forces the phone back into Stiles’ hand and wraps his fingers around it. “I’m part of Deucalion’s pack as much as you hate to admit that. He’s _my_ Alpha. Chances are, if I need help, he’ll know it anyway. Call him and make it easier for him to find me if I’m injured. He’ll be more concerned with killing Blake and helping me that he won’t be focused on doing damage control and dealing with your father or Isaac. Please? When you find your father, take him out behind the house and lead him back to your car. Isaac as well. If you can only take one, take your father because he’s disposable to Blake. Isaac has leverage and Blake has a reason to keep him alive. Drive far away from here and if I don’t follow shortly after, call Deucalion or my brother.”

               Stiles is severely hoping that everything goes according to plan because he _really_ doesn’t want to call anyone in the Alpha Pack. He stares down the road hoping for Derek to appear. After thirty seconds, Stiles nods and agrees to Ethan’s demands. He invited Ethan here after all, pleaded that he come even though there’s a high probability of Ethan getting hurt defending him.        

 

               He feels a hand on his shoulder as he’s contemplating the possibilities of the situation.

               “We’ll find your father,” Ethan smiles and stares off at the house. His eyes flicker red for a minute.

               “Thank you,” Stiles replies quietly. “For coming and you know, risking death.” Stiles feels guilt among the swirl of emotions in his head.

               “I’ve got a lot to make up for,” Ethan smiles sadly. “Now,” Ethan flexes his fingers. “Avoid Blake at all costs. Avoid getting bitten. Avoid anything that includes bodily injury and let’s save your father.” They start walking down the dirt driveway, eyes scanning 360 degrees for a threat. Somewhere in the house in front of him, his father and Isaac are in danger.    

 

               The two of them approach the house with silent footsteps, Ethan now with dark red eyes. Ethan pulls him in close and whispers to him. “Hide on the other side of the porch. I’ll try to distract him so you can get in,” He whispers and Stiles agrees, hiding and ducking down behind the porch. He can hear a commotion from inside the house. Ethan straightens his clothing and steps up to the porch, knocking on the door before backing up and standing on the first step.

               Everything is silent for the first minute. Stiles can hear the wind blowing through the long grass and the wildflowers, can feel the cold breeze coming from the field. Ethan stands confident on the front step, staring at the door with a blood red gaze. The anxiety has tunneled into his abdomen now and spread outward, infecting every single muscle and cell of his body with a sense of deep seeded fear. Stiles remains still, peering over the edge of the porch to watch for Blake’s entrance. There’s no movement from the front door, no sign of the door clicking unlocked. He sees no shadows behind the shades of the front windows and for a brief moment, Stiles wonders if they arrived too late, if Blake decided to move Isaac and his father to avoid detection from the cops; if his father is even alive that is. Stiles waits for the fallout, waits for Blake to rush out the front door fully wolfed out with claws aimed at Ethan’s throat.

               The calm subsides in a flurry of teeth and claws. Stiles doesn’t even see Blake before Ethan is lunging at Stiles, currently with full wolf features. Stiles ducks quickly and Ethan collides with a body behind Stiles’ own cowering form.

               “Run!” Ethan orders and Stiles is on his feet in a minute, looking back as Ethan is suddenly grappling with Blake who has come from an apparent back door to kill Stiles without notice. It failed and now Ethan is throwing Blake back to the ground. “I have a problem with you kidnapping people,” Ethan growls, glaring back at Stiles in warning.       

 

               Blake is laughing as he pulls himself off the ground, blood dripping from a split lip. “I smelled Stiles the second he stepped foot outside his car. I was hired to off him remember? I don’t forget a scent so when I smelled him all over that Sheriff I could only assume I had run into the wonderful Sheriff Stilinski the town raves about. Such a shame that you’re an orphan now, Stiles. Your father was a lovely man,” He’s chuckling, his face a contortion of sheer evil.

               Stiles’ eyes widen and his jaw drops. He stares at Ethan with shaking limbs.

               “Don’t listen to him,” Ethan warns. “He’s lying.”

               “You have no way of knowing that,” Blake laughs, wiping the blood onto his shirt. “Your daddy could be under one of those hills out there already,” Blake points to the ravine where burial mounds are covered in poppies. Two of them appear fresh and even more dread is coursing through Stiles’ circulatory system.

               “I can smell him in the house. Isaac too. Don’t listen to him,” Ethan warns again, looking at Stiles with concern.

               “Dead now, dead later, same thing!” Blake laughs. “As soon as I’m done with your lover boy right here,” Blake points to Ethan. “I’m killing your friend and father.”

               “Go get your dad, Stiles,” Ethan growls, watching Blake with contempt. Stiles nods and shakes himself out of his terror, running to the front door and pulling on it desperately. The wooden door won’t give, won’t budge and the lock on it is holding steadfast despite Stiles’ attempts. Stiles looks at Ethan helplessly before improvising. Ethan is circling around Blake, both of them eyeing up each other in tactical assessment.

               Stiles jumps off the side of the porch in the opposite direction and grabs a large rock lying in the long grass. He hauls it back up to the door. 

 

               Blake, noticing his intentions, growls in anger. “Kid, if you damage my property I’m going to take personal pleasure in tearing the skin off your bones.”

               Ethan crouches down and growls in response, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

               Stiles winces and decides to play his hand, whipping the boulder into the upper pane of glass of the front door. He watches Blake’s expression as the glass shatters into many pieces, the striking sound reverberating through the wide open field.

               “That’s it,” Blake yells and rushes forward. Ethan counters him and throws him back to the ground. “You’re not so strong without your twin, kid,” Blake warns and gets back up again.

               “I’m stronger than you, Blake,” Ethan laughs. “I’ve got a pack.”

               “Yeah?” Blake grins from ear to ear. “Where are they, then?”

               Ethan growls and lunges at Blake, claws extended.

               Stiles is rushing forward, sticking his hand through the shattered glass frame and wincing at the pain of biting glass in his forearm. He musters through, unlocking the deadbolt and pulling the door open with fierce determination. He doesn’t watch the continuing fight behind him between Ethan and Blake. He rushes into the house, looking around for any signs of his father or Isaac.

               He thinks to himself: _Where would a deranged killer keep his captives?_ The first answer that pops into his head is probably the most appropriate, the basement.

               Stiles hurries around the house, rushing into the kitchen to look for a set of stairs. He hears animalistic growling from outside the window and looks out the glass to see Blake huffing heavily, Ethan nearby with a fresh set of claw marks across his chest. Stiles winces and runs back around, pulling open doors. Bathroom, bedroom, guest room. The last door at the end of the hall is a set of descending stairs. Stiles doesn’t think twice before running down them into the dark. He fumbles around, pressing his fingertips against the wall and feeling around in the pitch darkness for the light switch.  When his touch meets plastic, he flips the switch and allows the fluorescent lights above to illuminate the room. Much to his disappointment, the basement is absolutely empty. There is a clean concrete floor and bleached white walls. The ceiling is also concrete, a large hook hanging dead center in the middle. Stiles gulps and panics, not seeing Isaac or his father.

               “Dad?!” Stiles yells, desperate. “Isaac?” He screams, wanting to hear someone’s voice to assure him that he hadn’t arrived too late.

               There aren’t any voices for the first minute and Stiles feels his skin crawling. He feels his soul shattering. He feels his life crumbling until he hears a heavy knocking against the wall in the basement. Stiles looks around for the source and shouts out again.

               “Dad? Isaac?” He screams louder this time and the pounding also increases in volume. Stiles rushes to the wall where the knocking is the loudest and starts pressing against the wall, trying to find a secrete entrance or a passageway. He feels along the wall again, his fingertips pushing heavily against every square inch. The knocking continues but he can’t hear any other noise from the other side. Stiles continues frantically until his fingertips finally hit a section of the wall where, upon touch, the wall depresses in a perfect square. Stiles smiles in victory and throws all of his weight into pressing against the wall. The wall gives way and seems to push in like a door, swinging on a unseen hinge.   

 

               As soon as the door swings open, Stiles’ arms are full of a sobbing Isaac.

               Stiles stiffens in fear until he realizes it is Isaac who is holding him tightly.

               Stiles returns the embrace while looking around the room. He sees his father lying unmoving in the corner, drying blood caking his hair and forehead and Stiles nearly drops to his knees. Isaac catches his weight.

               “Stiles,” Isaac grabs him under his arms. “Stiles, he’s alive. He’s just unconscious. He came to find me,” Isaac grabs Stiles’ face and forces him to look straight at him. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

               “We’ve got to get out of here,” Stiles manages to choke out, stumbling out of Isaac’s arms and falling to his knees in front of his father. He presses two fingers to his neck to confirm for himself. As soon as he feels the pulse thrumming beneath his fingertips, he breathes a sigh of relief.

               “Is Blake still alive? Did Derek kill him?” Isaac asks, frantically, rushing over to the Sheriff.

               “Derek’s not here. I arrived first, with Ethan,” Stiles winces, facing the blonde Beta.

               Before Isaac can react, there’s an ungodly howl from upstairs and Isaac stops cold in his tracks.

               “What is it?” Stiles asks, trying to yank his father off the ground. He manages to grasp him under the arms, trying not to aggravate the wound on his forehead.

               “That was Ethan,” Isaac whimpers. “He’s hurt. He’s calling for pack.”

               Stiles suddenly feels the phone in his pocket start vibrating. He pulls out his phone first and, finding that it’s a black screen with no activity, withdraws Ethan’s phone next. The caller ID reads out Aiden and Stiles, not thinking of the repercussions, answers the call.

               “Ethan?” The voice is worried. “Ethan! Where are you?”

               “No,” Stiles’ voice quivers. “It’s Stiles.”

               “Stiles,” Aiden responds, his voice laced with venom. “Where is my brother?”

               “Currently getting overpowered by Blake upstairs,” Stiles winces and looks down at his father and back to Isaac is desperation. Isaac is looking at him in confusion.

               “God damn it. Which location? Stiles! Is he alive?” Aiden is yelling and Stiles falls back into panic mode.

               “Pinehurst. I don’t know! He’s fighting off Blake… I don’t know.”

               “I’ll be there soon. If you want to get out of there alive, be gone in ten minutes,” Aiden yells before hanging up the phone. Stiles looks at Isaac in sheer panic.

               “We’ve got to get out of here, fast. 10 minutes fast or Ethan’s pack shows up,” Stiles replies as he shoves the phone back into his pants pocket and starts moving his father, dragging him under the arms, to the stairs.

               Isaac breaks out of his stunned reverie and despite his pained winces, grabs the Sheriff by the feet and pulls him up, helping Stiles bear the weight. Together they manage to haul him up the stairs in a relatively fast fashion. They quicken their pace when they hit solid ground and eventually, Isaac and Stiles are hauling the Sheriff out the front door. Stiles looks over his shoulder, saying a quick prayer towards Blake and Ethan. Blake has a new gash on his arms, the tanned flesh now covered in crimson blood. He’s sporting a new cut across one eye and puncture wounds on his side. Ethan looks over at Stiles in relief but he’s looking worse for wear. He’s got a deep set of teeth marks on his lower leg which is currently oozing blood onto the grass in droplets. He’s got claw marks littering his abdomen, some of which are in the process of stitching back together.

               Blake roars at the sight of Isaac and the Sheriff escaping. Ethan groans and launches himself forward, hurtling his entire weight down on Blake, pinning him underneath him in the dirt.

               “Get them out of here,” Ethan yells, raising his arm in the air and bringing claws down only to be grabbed by Blake’s flailing arms. Stiles doesn’t need to be told twice. As Blake overpowers Ethan and shifts their position so Blake is on top, Stiles and Isaac are off the porch and are making a gauntlet to the door. Blake presses his claws into Ethan’s throat, grasping the flesh tightly.

               Stiles drops his father out of his arms and looks at Isaac sadly. “Get him to the car,” He orders and Isaac instantly starts shaking his head. Stiles doesn’t take this as an answer however and throws his car keys at him. “Isaac go! I’ve got to help Ethan. He’s here because of me. Keep driving until you meet up with Derek on the road. You’re injured and stand no chance against him. Now go!” Stiles begs and Isaac whines. He complies and struggles to get the Sheriff over his shoulder, hauling him off the ground and taking off slowly towards the car.

               Stiles mentally hits himself for the decision but looks back at the fight where Blake is choking out Ethan. Ethan is desperately gasping for breath and flailing but he’s not able to gain any leverage to throw the Alpha off. Stiles surveys the land for anything useful and, in a sudden moment of epiphany, rushes over to the beat up Land Rover alongside the other side of the house, reaching down into the skeletal remains of the car to grab a rusted metal pipe amongst scrap metal. Stiles sprints back over and, purely out of adrenaline and terror, brings the metal pipe down on Blake’s back while he’s distracted. Blake howls out in pain but, just as Stiles has hoped, releases his grasp on Ethan’s throat. Ethan chokes out a breath and looks at Stiles in horror. Blake, at that exact moment, turns his attention on Stiles and rushes forward, teeth out and ready to bite down. Ethan rises from the ground and pulls him backwards, both of them falling down to the ground, fighting for dominance. Blake howls one more time before bringing a fist down on Ethan’s head, knocking him against the ground unconscious.

               “Ethan!” Stiles cries out and stumbles back. Blake stands and spits out a mouthful of blood. He’s looking at Stiles in pure contempt and hatred. Stiles turns around and takes off, knowing he’s done for. He stands no chance of outrunning an Alpha so he begins to pray for a miracle. His feet carry him faster, the pain of his legs disappearing amongst all the fear coursing through his veins. Stiles sees someone rush past him in a blur and Isaac is wolfed out, slamming into Blake, digging his claws into his abdomen. As soon as Blake is on the ground, Isaac jumps to his feet and runs back, grabbing Stiles around the waist and forcing him to run.

               “Isaac, I said to leave,” Stiles pants out.

               “We don’t leave pack behind,” Isaac smiles and forces Stiles to keep running.

               Stiles stops, digging his feet into the ground and turning around. Blake is limping his way back to his feet.

               “Stiles, let’s go!” Isaac begs.

               “Ethan!” Stiles looks at Isaac, his eyes pleading.

               “Leave him! Aiden will be here soon!” Isaac warns.

               “Blake will kill him before that!” Stiles shakes his head. Isaac’s eyes widen and he groans.

               “Stiles, you’re going to get us killed,” Isaac whispers but wolfs out again, eyes going yellow and claws growing longer.

               “I’m sorry,” Stiles closes his eyes. Stiles withdraws a pouch from his pocket and unties the top, feeling the dust in his hand.

               “Wolfsbane,” Isaac sniffs and turns his head away.

               “Stay behind me,” Stiles orders and runs straight at Blake, a handful of dust in his hands. Blake gives a toothy grin before taking off, digging his heels into the dirt and launching himself straight at Stiles. Stiles flinches for a second before whipping the dust straight into Blake’s open mouth. Blake stops mid-sprint and begins choking, grasping at his throat and spitting continuously on the ground.

               Stiles takes the opportunity to rush past Blake and straight to Ethan’s unconscious form. Much like he did for his father, Stiles grabs Ethan under the arms and begins dragging him away from the homicidal Alpha. Isaac groans and rushes forward, knocking the choking Blake onto the ground and grabbing Ethan. They make it halfway down the driveway before Blake stops choking up his internal organs. He regains his bearings and growls loudly, running straight at the group with unrestrained anger.

               “I’m so done with playing with you guys,” Blake yells. “I’m going to kill all of you.”

               Stiles pushes Isaac and Ethan back towards the car.

               “Take him,” Stiles yells. “And my father. Get out of here!” Stiles yells and rushes for the metal pipe he dropped on the lawn back near where Ethan was lying.

               “Stiles,” Isaac whines, dragging Ethan back.

               “GO!” Stiles bellows and rushes forward. Blake notices the movement and follows after, lunging after Stiles.

               By some sheer measure of luck, Stiles reaches the pipe, his fingers wrapping gratefully along the metal cylinder. He lifts it and turns around on his heels to face Blake. He closes his eyes and swings, hoping his muscles retain some memory of swinging around his lacrosse stick daily. The pipe makes contact with Blake’s shoulder, slowing down his charge. Stiles takes that opportunity, the split second fumble from Blake, to start sprinting off in the opposite direction. With Blake heading at him from one direction, Stiles is forced to start running away from the car, heading towards the Alpha’s burial grounds. Stiles refuses to look over his shoulder, refuses to listen to anything other than his own rapid breathing and the feeling of his heart practically beating out of his chest. He channels into the moment, trying to place faith in his muscles to not give out on him anytime soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep going!


	18. "A man can't be too careful in the choice of his enemies."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Showdown! Stiles & Isaac fight against Blake until the pack arrives. Derek discovers a new ability. The Alpha Pack show up and a new agreement is made! Truth is revealed

               Stiles hears a howl from behind him and closes his eyes in frustration. If he wasn’t so preoccupied with worrying about getting murdered, he’d be so over this situation. Blake’s almost killed him multiple times now and Stiles has been making desperate escape attempts since Scott was first turned into a werewolf. He’s a bit tired of enemies coming at him from all directions. Yet, he continues running because that’s what his life has spiraled down into recently, constant running.

               Eventually, Stiles’ pace starts to slow down. His muscles start to fatigue, his limbs grow weary, his breath becomes faster and faster as he tries to get oxygen to his overexerted body. When his pace drops down dramatically, he feels a weight slamming into his back, pinning him into the ground.

                _Well, this is it this time,_ Stiles thinks. He’s sure of it.

               He flips over in the grip to face Blake panting heavily as he pins his arms and legs.

               “Stiles,” Blake smiles, showing all the wonderfully sharp teeth he has. “You should consider yourself lucky, right now,” He breathes out. “If I wasn’t working on rebuilding my pack I would be ripping you to shreds right now.”

               Stiles tries to squirm out of the grip but the hands on his biceps are tight and the knees pinning his legs down are already starting to leave bruises on his skin.

               “Well,” Stiles stops fighting, seeing the futility of the situation. “I feel like this situation is going to lead to a lot of biting,” Stiles tries sarcasm. “But I don’t think you want me as your Beta. I’m loud, reckless, I talk a lot. Really, I don’t shut up. I also don’t take orders well.”

               “He’s not lying on that one,” Stiles hears a voice coming from someone behind Blake and, as soon as he places the source, his eyes widen. Though Stiles’ head is running laps trying to keep up with what has been happening, he notices a steel grip on Blake’s shoulder that is suddenly pulling the homicidal Alpha off of him. Just as quickly as he pounced on Stiles, Blake is just as quickly being tossed to the ground.

               When Stiles leans forward again, having the weight of the Alpha off of him, he sees Derek repositioned in front of him, eyes blood red and focused on Blake. Flanking him are Scott and Peter, both of which are wolfed out. While Derek and Peter are facing the enemy, attention at full alert, Scott looks back at him with a concerned expression.

               “Good timing,” Stiles breathes out and takes Scott’s extended hand.

               “Go back to the car, Stiles. We’ll talk after,” Derek growls.

               “I like that suggestion actually,” Stiles brushes himself off, shaking the dirt from his clothing. “I’m just going to,” Stiles sneaks around Peter and stares hesitantly at Blake. “I’m going to go to the car, check on my dad. You guys can handle this whole thing…” Stiles stares at Scott who smiles warily.

               Derek looks over for a second but his eyes catch, scanning Stiles down from head to toe. Stiles looks at himself self-consciously and, upon self-reflection, feels something warm running down his lips and chin. He presses fingers to his face and notices blood spilling down from his nose.

               “Aww,” Stiles whines. “It better not be broken.”

               Despite his attempt at light humor, Derek growls and a murderous gaze flickers over at Blake.

               Peter sighs and eyes between Derek and Stiles slowly. “Damn it,” He mumbles.

               “What?” Stiles asks, slowly backing away from the situation. He pinches the bridge of his nose to hopefully staunch the flow of blood. By this time, Blake is climbing to his feet again and blinking at the wolves in front of him, analyzing his options.

               Stiles can make out the brief flash of teeth before he feels someone running into him again. Stiles panics and turns around but finds himself being held in place by a set of claws at his throat.

               “Oh,” Blake rumbles against his back. “I hadn’t realized before but this is  _interesting_!” Blake laughs and Stiles desperately faces the pack in front of him, eyeing them for help.

               “If you don’t let him go, right now,” Scott growls, trailing off with his threat.

               “You’ll what?” Blake laughs. “Kill me? Not before I kill him.”

               “I would really like to go back to the car now,” Stiles winces.

               “Oh, we’ll go to the car,” Blake warns. “Listen here,” Blake announces. “Stiles and I are going to take a trip out of here and if anyone so much as tries to take him from me, I’m going to slit his throat.”

               “If I get into the car and leave with you, you’re just going to turn me. I’ve figured out that much,” Stiles rolls his eyes.

               “See?” Blake looks at Derek. “He’s an intelligent one. He’d make a good pack member.”

               “He’s already part of my pack,” Derek growls in response, looking at Peter for a split second.

               “At first I truly doubted that because he’s human but then I caught your scent, Derek. It’s funny that you even allowed the possibility of your human mate to fall into the hands of another Alpha. Not to mention I had your Beta in my basement for a while. Tell me, Derek Hale. Do you normally casually hand your pack and mate over to another Alpha or can I consider myself special?” Stiles winces as he feels Blake’s claws against his throat.

               Stiles’ gaze meets Derek’s as he tries to convey his hopelessness in this situation. Every time he thinks he’s going to escape the homicidal Alpha, he ends up back in his grasp, just a few teeth marks away from being turned or killed.

               “I’m going to kill him,” Peter grins and shakes his head. “You’re messing with a pack, not to mention you’re threatening an Alpha’s mate.”

               “I have my claws against Derek’s mate’s throat and he hasn’t so much as spoken yet,” Blake laughs and puts his mouth to Stiles’ ear. “I sense some tension here. Is there trouble in paradise? Perhaps your mate over there was hoping this would happen so he doesn’t have to address this awkward situation that I sense.”

               “If you don’t stop talking to him right now, I’m going to take pleasure in removing each of your teeth one by one,” Derek shakes his head.

               “Good,” Blake chuckles. “A reaction. Finally. Now, I really don’t want your mate. He’s not excellent pack material, as he laid out before. I prefer your beta, right there,” Blake looks at Scott. “I propose a trade?”

               “Fuck off,” Stiles groans and the claws against his throat press deeper. Stiles winces.

               “Stiles,” Scott groans. “Fine…” He starts but Derek interrupts him.

               “No. You’re not going to continue to take my pack,” Derek’s growling now, his composure falling apart.

               Peter’s gaze shifts to Derek and, much to Stiles’ amazement, a unique looks crosses his face. For a brief second, Stiles thinks he can place fear and amazement among Peter’s expression. The ex-Alpha’s eyes widen and he steps back, watching Derek carefully as if he were a bomb about to explode.

              “What exactly are you going to do about it?” Blake laughs louder now. “As you refuse to hand over your Beta, I’m going to slit the throat of your mate in front of you so quickly you won’t have time to save him. You can watch as the person you’ve courted, made an arrangement to spend the rest of your life with, is murdered painfully. Nothing personal, Stiles,” Blake whispers to him. “Just business.”

             Stiles starts squirming but, by doing so, indirectly forces Blake to press his claws deeper into Stiles’ exposed neck. Stiles can feel the claws break skin, can feel rivulets of blood coming from his neck, running down and staining his shirt.

           Peter’s expression dramatically shifts as he quickly bypasses Derek, grasping Scott by the arm and pulling him away from the situation.

           “Peter, stop!” Scott yells. “We’ve got to help Stiles.”

           “Derek’s about to,” Peter’s eyes widen and he takes a few steps backward.

           “What are you gossiping about?” Blake growls. “I’m about to kill your friend and you’re whispering!”

           In the midst of more pain, Stiles observes Derek carefully. Derek’s gaze doesn’t ever leave Stiles. It could be a trick of his mind as he’s coping with the fact he’s about to get killed but Derek’s eyes seem to becoming a deeper shade of red and the look in those blood-colored orbs reflect years of pain, loss and irritation due to a feeling of powerlessness. Stiles doesn’t want to die. Sure he’s already accepted the inevitability of death but he doesn’t want it to happen. He’d be perfectly content to live out his life until old age finally drags him off into the afterlife. In fact, being murdered by a spurned Alpha makes his top list of ways he doesn’t want to die.

        Stiles begins to question his sanity further as, while he’s inspecting Derek, the Alpha’s hair seems to be lengthening, his teeth growing, his stature contorting. Stiles looks away in panic to nonverbally ask Peter what’s going on. Blake beats him to the punch.

         “What the hell is going on?” Blake backs both of them up as he suddenly notices a change in Derek.

       “You threatened his mate, his pack. Now I don’t know if you knew my older sister, Derek’s mother, or the Hale family lineage but I’m beginning to think it didn’t skip over Derek,” Peter shoves Scott behind him as he cryptically answer’s Blake’s question.

        “Peter,” Derek whines, finally breaking his stillness. He drops to his knees and grasps at his head.

         “Sorry, Derek. Just let it happen,” Peter helpfully adds.

        “Let what happen?” Stiles asks, curious despite the claws at his neck that are suddenly quivering.

        Peter walks over and places a hand on Derek’s back. “Give into it,” Peter coaches.

       “Give into what?” Blake screams, an edge of desperation to his voice. “You better not try anything. I’ll kill him!”

        Derek’s shaking even more heavily now and Scott and Stiles exchange clueless looks. Blake is backing up slowly, taking Stiles with him.

       “Derek,” Peter whispers to the Alpha as he’s hiding his head into his hands. Stiles’ eyes widen as hair begins to grow into the skin on Derek’s back, covering his quivering arms, the back of his shielding hands, every exposed and visible area. Stiles leans back into Blake, trying to assess the situation. He’s beginning to piece fragments together but is shaking his head at the impossibility.

      “That’s a birthright,” Scott mutters in disbelief.

       “Derek, Blake has your mate. He’s going to kill him. He’ll kidnap Scott and Isaac. Let the feeling take over,” Peter urges, his hand rubbing circles into Derek’s back.

        "She didn’t say this hurt like hell,” Derek growls.

        “Only the first time,” Peter soothes.

         “It shouldn’t be happening,” Derek falls from his knees, putting his face against the ground.

         “But it is.”

         “Oh god,” Derek groans. “I can’t.”

         Scott walks over hesitantly and eyes the situation skeptically. Peter beckons for Scott to come closer and Scott obeys, wincing as he watches the claws up against Stiles throat.

         “If someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to kill him,” Blake panics.

         As if Blake’s threat is some kind of conformational phrase, Derek lifts his head up from the ground to stare at the aggressor, his face no longer the same as it was before. Now, his teeth are longer, his eyes are a deeper red and his bone structure seems to be fluidly moving under the surface as if he’s in the middle of a shift. Except, instead of being in the middle of a shift, he’s already in Alpha form and hair is growing over every centimeter of exposed skin. His nose is lengthening, pulling outward and widening. His jaw is moving inward and Derek is groaning with every bone movement. There’s patches of fur-like hair growing under his eyes, on his cheeks, on his chin. He growls deeper and drops his head back to the ground, digging his claws into the dirt.

          “What is going on with him?” Blake’s voice waivers.

          “Stiles,” Derek winces and the hair growth is accelerating, thickening and darkening into black fur sprouting up everywhere. Scott’s eyes narrow and he reaches down, following Peter’s lead and placing a hand on Derek’s back.

          “Your wolf just wants to help him,” Peter whispers. “Quit fighting it.”

        “He’s not…” Blake begins to peace things together, seeing the shifting bones and Derek’s changing face. He notices the sprouting fur, the now four-legged posture.

         “Oh he is,” A new voice joins in, and despite the claws at his throat, Stiles turns his head to instantly make out the face and voice of Deucalion. Kali and Aiden are flanking him, all with deep red eyes. Stiles tenses and groans. “It seems Derek has inherited Talia Hale’s power after all.”

         “Why are you here Deucalion?” Peter accuses, eyes narrowed.

           “Because,” Deucalion bites back. “Blake here hurt one of my own. I have as much right to kill him as you do.”

          “No one is killing me!” Blake yells out, dragging Stiles back a few steps and slowly heading towards an overgrown patch of land where the weeds grow well above six feet tall.

          “Derek,” Deucalion interrupts, disregarding the Alpha escaping with Stiles. “Drop your human thoughts. Tap into the wolf. It hurts because you’re fighting it. Your wolf wants out.”

          “Fuck off,” Derek whines, his voice becoming deeper and deeper by the minute.

          Deucalion walks over slowly, continuing to disregard Blake’s presence all together. Stiles eyes Scott helplessly and Scott uses the distracting scene to slowly sneak back into the underbrush. Blake doesn’t notice immediately, his eyes continuously flickering between Derek and Deucalion.

         “There are four Alphas here. Five if you technically count Scott. Six if you count Ethan. And two Betas,” Stiles warns Blake in a low register. “I think you’re outnumbered.”

          “I have you hostage!” Blake tightens his grip, coaxing more blood to come to the surface. “Shut up!”

          “Stop touching him!” Derek groans, clutching at his abdomen.

           Deucalion reaches down and puts a hand under Derek’s chin. Peter tries to prevent the action but Deucalion glares him down, lifting his free hand to indicate a level of passiveness. “Derek,” Deucalion soothes. “Stop thinking about the consequences. Think about the fact that if you don’t turn soon, Blake will kill your mate. Blake is making him bleed right now. Think how he’ll continue to kill your pack. Channel in your hatred for me. Channel in how I’m trying to break your pack apart as well. Channel in your anger. Feel your wolf. Now feel only your wolf,” Deucalion coaxes but Derek continues to clutch at his own skin, his body caught into a stasis of fur appearing and Derek visibly mentally shoving it back down. His bones continue shifting and Stiles can’t even begin to imagine that sort of pain. Despite Deucalion’s words, Derek is still fighting it.

          Stiles develops a gradual idea and he decides to test out his hypothesis that Blake placing him in danger has driven this latent skill of Derek’s to appear.

          “Derek,” Stiles whines. Derek’s attention is immediately drawn upwards, his face continuing to distort and shift. Despite the moving bones and sprouting fur, Stiles knows he has Derek’s full attention. There’s unshed tears at his eyes, pain etched across his face. Stiles can read that, in between Derek’s current hybrid appearance between full wolf and man, Derek is experiencing an immense physical burden. “Please,” Stiles whines. “Help me.”

            Those two words cause a silence to fall and everyone’s attention is suddenly diverted to Derek’s rapidly changing form now. There’s no stasis, no fighting in Derek’s transformation. The hair comes in flawlessly, transforming Derek’s once clothed body to a whole expanse of thick black fur. Derek’s hands and feet slowly shrink and transform into paws, his claws lengthening and retracting inward. His back cracks and realigns straighter, his face lengthening and taking on the definite shape of a wolf. His eyes seem to glow against the black fur. A tail begins to emerge, long and bushy, swaying slightly as Derek tests out his new nerves. Peter eyes Deucalion skeptically but extends his claws, shredding Derek’s clothes off to make room for his changing form. In the matter of a minute after, with everyone watching in stunned amazement, where Derek was once laying, a full-sized black wolf crouches in the dirt.

            Stiles’ jaw almost drops but, before he can say anything verbally to confirm the amazement, Blake jolts backwards. The claws are removed from his throat and Stiles can see another set of claws digging into Blake’s bicep. Scott emerges from the long grass as he whips Blake away from Stiles, snarling like a fierce animal. Stiles tries to escape but Blake’s claws dig into his ankle pulling him down and into the foliage. Stiles screams in pain, hissing as Blake retracts the claws and tries pulling him backwards. Scott brings his claws down on Blake’s face but Blake doesn’t loosen his hold on Stiles’ ankle and Stiles can’t get away.

            Stiles wrestles around trying to gain leverage but, just as he’s twisting about, there’s another snarl from outside the long grass and Stiles watches in horror as the black wolf leaps into action, quickly pouncing into the grappling mayhem and locking his teeth instantly around Blake’s throat. Blake releases Stiles’ ankle and tries to fight off Derek, shoving him back but Derek makes short work of placing several bite marks along Blake’s arms. Stiles crawls backwards until he runs into Peter. Peter wraps two arms around Stiles’ abdomen and pulls him backwards, away from the struggle. Stiles can hear bone cracking and sees Derek biting Blake repeatedly. Scott is backing off as well, edging his way away from the scene.

            “Derek!” Stiles yells but Peter silences him.

           “Stop,” Peter hushes. “He’s got to do this.”

          Peter and Scott pull Stiles completely out of the high grass and back into the clearing. Aiden and Kali seem antsy, eager to escape but Deucalion is standing steady, un-phased by the change in events. Peter reaches down to the pile of remains of Derek’s tattered clothing and withdraws a few scraps, wrapping them around Stiles’ bleeding ankle. He manages to staunch the blood flow and wraps the bandaging tight, knotting it off. Peter and Scott stay close around Stiles, not trusting of the Alpha Pack.

        Scott pats Stiles on the shoulder.

        “It’s going to be okay,” Scott reassures.

         “Derek,” Stiles breathes out. “Derek is a WOLF!” Stiles yells, panicking a bit.

        There’s a sudden quiet in the long grass now. The sign of a struggle subsides and Stiles watches the field with the vigilance of a soldier.

        “You know,” Scott makes light of the situation. “I thought you just came along so you could kill Blake and become an Alpha again,” Scott talks to Peter, oblivious of the new silence.

         “Thought about it,” Peter responds honestly. “But then this happened,” Peter speaks, alluding to Derek transforming into a wolf. “That idiot decided to have a death wish and emotionally compromise Derek. Even I couldn’t pull Blake out of Derek’s jaws enough to kill him and steal his power.”

          “Reassuring,” Stiles mumbled, the adrenaline wearing off as he slouches into Scott.

           “Alpha Pack,” Peter whispers, reminding them of the presence.

           The long grass rustles and again, Stiles is watching with the upmost vigilance. He knows it’s not Blake. He saw enough biting to assume that Blake is long dead. There’s less of a weight on his chest and even though he feels guilty for feeling relieved that someone is dead, he is glad that Blake is out of their lives completely. As predicted, the black wolf emerges from the long grass. He steps out halfway, panting heavily and posture relaxed. Derek’s snout and entire front half are coated in blood, his fur matted against his skin now in knots because of the crimson fluid. The wolf’s eyes move from Stiles back to Deucalion.

          In sight of the Alpha Pack, Derek’s posture becomes rigid again and a growl emerges from his throat. He steps forward slowly, head lowered. He creeps forward gradually. Deucalion notices the threat somehow and holds up his hands in a sign of surrender.

          “Derek,” Deucalion speaks, his voice peaceful and not frightened. “I know you can hear me. I only came here to dispose of Blake and Blake’s threat. Now that it has been handled, I have no purpose here. I mean no threat to you or your pack,” He warns.

           “You mean that you pose no threat right now?” Peter counters, bitterly. Scott nods eagerly.

           “In light of recent events, I had hoped that later we could all sit down and speak civilly to one another about some sort of agreement,” Deucalion speaks diplomatically.

            “You mean that you have discovered that Derek inherited Talia’s power after all and now you’re unsure if you want to risk attacking our pack,” Peter speaks for Derek, watching the black wolf nod in approval.

             “If you would please stop interpreting my words,” Deucalion replies smugly. “I merely suggest that perhaps there is no harm in allowing your pack dynamic to continue as it is. I see no point in uprooting your pack to obtain Scott or Derek as they will no longer come willingly.”

          “As I said,” Peter laughs. “Lost cause.”

           “Nonetheless,” Deucalion bites out. “I still support that we can come to an arrangement or agreement that will benefit us all greatly and result in discontinuing the war between us.”

            Derek growls from within the long grass.

            “You killed two of our own. Tried to kill Stiles. Tried to kill Isaac once upon a time. And Scott. There’s no peace between us,” Peter growls lowering his head and putting a hand on Scott’s shoulder.

            “Then we can continue this war,” Deucalion responds in kind. “And we can drag it out, exposing everyone’s mistakes while more lives are claimed. I’m sure you want that very much. While the scales have tipped to a new likely winner, the losses won’t be avoided.”

             “Guys,” Stiles whines. “Shut up. Schedule a meeting. What’s done has been done. If the fighting continues, we’ll all die. We can consider our options later. I’m hurt and so is Isaac. Let’s bring out the white flag for now.”

             The pack falls silent before Peter sighs.

             “As I’m sure Derek will agree,” Peter looks at Derek, who bobs his head up and down, “We can call a treaty for now. We’ll discuss this later. A fight wouldn’t benefit anybody.”

             “Agreed,” Deucalion smiles. He turns his head towards Derek in the bushes. “I haven’t seen anyone do that since Talia’s death. Congratulations on your new found power and, as I heard, your new mate. You will not find my pack bothering yours. I shall send correspondence out as to possible times of a peace meeting. Emissaries welcome. Good bye,” He bobs his head and indicates to Kali and Aiden to follow after.

          “Wait!’ Stiles yells and Deucalion stops. He doesn’t turn around. “Ethan is in the car. He’s pretty hurt. Please, please don’t punish him. He was just trying to clean up this mess.”

           “Whether he will be punished or not will be decided later. We will, however, attend to his wounds,” Deucalion speaks and turns around, taking his pack with him.

            Silently, Stiles tosses Ethan’s loaned phone back to Aiden. Aiden accepts it with a small smile.

           From the brush, Derek watches the pack leave with a lowered head.

            “I’ll go get Isaac,” Peter whispers and untangles himself from Scott and Stiles. He heads back towards the car.

           “Check on my father,” Stiles winces and Peter laughs before nodding. Stiles doesn’t find the situation humorous. He doesn’t really know how to explain any of this to his Dad. He’s been scrapping by with excuses before and every time he gets into trouble he sees his excuses becoming more and more unbelievable. This time he’s not sure he can hide the truth anymore. His father saw Blake, must have experienced his heightened strength. He might have even seen something that he shouldn’t have. He’s terrified at the thought of talking to his Dad about this but at the same time, a small part in the back of his mind is relieved that he might have better ground to come clean about all of the supernatural business.

            “Oh shit,” Stiles swears and covers his mouth. “If my dad doesn’t check in soon, the entirety of the Beacon Hills police department will be down here.”

           “I’ll handle it,” Peter groans as he walks away.

            Stiles nods and his attention is quickly diverted back to the long grass where Derek is lurking. Derek picks up his head and slowly pads over as Peter is leaving, stopping a few inches in front of Scott and Stiles. The blood is drying on his coat now and he still seems awkward in the four-legged gait.

           “Okay, I’ll say it,” Scott holds up his hands in resignation. “This is awkward.”

             Derek huffs and lays down on the ground.

            “But yeah,” Stiles trails off, rubbing at the back of his head. “Thank you guys for coming and backing me up. And for saving me…. Again. God, I have been saying that too much recently.”

            “Seems like things might calm down from here on out,” Scott shrugs and looks at Stiles hopefully.

           “Calm down?” Stiles breathes out. “How am I going to explain this to my father? We still have to explain this to him. He did get kidnapped by Blake. Speaking of Blake, what are we going to do with the body? The body is a huge problem. Not to mention things aren’t resolved with Deucalion yet. I also may have gotten Ethan into trouble with his pack which is this immense load of guilt. Oh, what else? Guys, Derek is a wolf. He literally just turned into a wolf,” Stiles looks at Derek. “No offense. We also haven’t talked about this MATING thing.”

            Derek sits up at the mention of that, shifting back and forth on his hind legs.

            Stiles starts breathing quickly and closes his eyes, trying not to panic at everything that’s being sprung on him all at once. He is so consumed with panic until he feels a wet nose pressed against his cheek. Stiles opens his eyes and Derek’s in his space, sitting in front of him with a paw on his leg.

           “So, Derek’s a dog,” Isaac laughs walking up.

           Derek turns his head to look at Isaac and growls deeply. Scott and Stiles can’t help but laugh at Isaac’s reaction.

          "I think he might prefer the word ‘wolf’,” Stiles laughs and put his hand on Derek’s head, rubbing the matted fur between his ears. Derek continues to growl.

          “Danger’s gone. You can turn back and insult us in English,” Scott points out.

          Peter walks up with a pair of pants and a t-shirt and whips them at the black wolf, nailing him in the head with the bundled up fabric. Derek shakes his head until the clothes are on the ground again. Peter keeps a towel in his hands and walks over, rubbing the towel over Derek’s fur to wipe off the excess blood. The green towel comes away bright red.

           “He was waiting for clothing,” Peter points out. “When you turn back, you’re naked.”

           “Oh,” Stiles lifts his hands off Derek. “So he’s technically naked right now?” Derek continues growling at Stiles.

          “Technically all animals are naked,” Peter shrugs. “But we can contemplate the complexities of life later. Right now, we’ve got to cover up this mess.”

          “Cover up?” Scott’s eyebrows scrunch together and he tilts his head in confusion.

           “Stiles’ father came here to find a murderer. He’s still unconscious but if the department finds out he got kidnapped and the murderer escaped, his badge is on the line. So I’ve got an excellent idea.”

           “Of course you do,” Scott rolls his eyes. “Care to share?”

           “Bury Blake, or what remains of him, like the others. He already has a hole dug, no offense but probably for Isaac if he failed to comply,” Isaac shirks back and Derek pushes out of the towel and sits by Isaac. “We’ll bury him there. The police department will think he’s a victim of the same killer.”

           “There’s no way the Sheriff will buy it,” Isaac points out. “He saw Blake alive. Blake was the one who knocked him unconscious and dragged him into the basement.”

           “Did he see you?” Stiles asks.

            “Yes,” Isaac hangs his head. “He was awake when they brought him down to the basement. Saw me tied up and set me loose. He told me that Melissa McCall sent him a phone call. She was begging him to find me, that the killer also kidnapped me and was looking to kill me,” Isaac blushes. “He fought against Blake when he came down to check on me and Blake beat him unconscious.”

            “My mother called him?” Scott asks, looking confused.

               “She was probably desperate,” Stiles shrugs. “But he doesn’t know about werewolves, right?”

               “Yeah, I’m sure he didn’t. He just commented on how he was getting old because Blake overpowered him,” Isaac replies.

               “Good,” Peter smiles. “Change of plans. We’ll take Isaac and the Sheriff back into the basement, tie up Isaac again,” Peter looks sadly at Isaac. “When the Sheriff comes to, he’ll find the door unlocked and Isaac tied up and he’ll think Blake escaped. We’ll clean up here, hide the body. Destroy the evidence.”

               “You think he’ll believe that Blake just upped and left, leaving Isaac alive to ID him?” Stiles replies incredulously. Derek’s watching the scene with interest.

               “Blake wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill a Sheriff. It’s the quickest way to reveal the werewolf secret and to set all of the cops within the state on his trail. Leaving Isaac would be a good faith gesture, buy him some time to escape instead of hiding a body. He would already know that his cover would be blown and he’d be fleeing. It works,” Peter reassures.

               “It concerns me that you’re good at this,” Stiles comments, narrowing his eyes. “Are you okay with this plan Isaac? My dad will free you and take you back to the station for your statement. Act like you’re in shock, tell him you were out at night and that you were grabbed by Blake as his next victim. He kept you alive to torture you, you look like enough hell for that to be plausible. Tell him the basics. He only said his name once. He was deprived and a maniac and took pleasure out of killing people. No one will blame you because you’re the victim. Blake tied you up to make a quick getaway and was waiting for the Sheriff to wake up to set you both free. As to how Melissa McCall knew, I was talking about the case files and mother’s intuition I guess,” Stiles smiles.

               “I’m fine with the plan. As long as Blake’s dead, I don’t care what I have to do to cover this up."

               "What are we going to do with his truck?” Stiles asks, looking at the pick-up in contempt.

               “Leave it. Any murderer knows enough to ditch a vehicle the cops can connect you to.” Peter points out.

               “Creepily good at this,” Stiles mutters under his breath.

               “Alright Mr. Good-at-This,” Peter replies sarcastically. “If your father wakes up early, this plan is shot to hell. Got a back-up for that?”

               “He doesn’t need one,” Isaac winces. “Blake drugged him the same way he drugged me to get me here. I saw him do it. We can safely assume your dad will be out for another hour or two.”

               “Another problem,” Stiles addresses. “If he doesn’t call into the station in another,” Stiles looks at his phone for the time, “Forty minutes, the cops will send back-up.”

               “I already texted them, telling a “Mike” that I was still interviewing the suspect. Mike replied in confirmation. I’ll leave the phone on the table. When the Sheriff comes to, he’ll think Blake texted them to buy himself time to escape. It gives us at least another forty minutes to hide the body. Now let’s get to it. Derek, we could use a pair of helping  _hands_ ,” Peter comments and Derek rolls his wolf eyes and nods.

               “Stiles and I will get the Sheriff back into the basement and Isaac tied up.” Scott comments. “You two can clean up this mess and get Blake’s body out of here,” Scott calls orders and Peter nods in confirmation.

               “How the ankle?” Peter comments, looking at Stiles. Derek pads over at sniffs at the wound on Stiles’ ankle carefully. “And the throat? And the arm? God Stiles,” Peter groans.

               “Superficial,” Stiles comments, standing up.

               “Wear gloves. Derek’s got some in the trunk. Clean down any surfaces you touched. You know the drill. You’ve seen cop shows. We’ll find some way to get rid of this blood. Stiles, if you got blood on  _anything_ , clean it up.” Peter looks at Stiles with a nod.

                 “Damn,” Stiles remembers something vital. “I broke the door trying to get to Isaac. What do I do with that?” He asks Peter, hopeful for some expert advice. “And the metal pipe I hit Blake with? How do people even get away with murder?”

                 “It’s normally planned. Now go deal with your father and Isaac. I’ll handle the rest.”

                 The three werewolves nod and set off to clean up after themselves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter going up tonight!


	19. Love Bites (So Do I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek & Stiles have a well needed conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the last chapter I'm uploading in the chapter uploading spree as this is where I left off!

 

               The clean-up goes according to plan and when Scott and Stiles pull the Sheriff from Stiles’ Jeep, he’s still out cold and unconscious. Stiles is feeling uneasy about this whole plan, about deceiving his father again. He feels guilty while re-tying up Isaac in the same place he was tormented by Blake for hours on end. Still, Stiles can’t complain about the current situation. Right now, his pack isn’t at war with the Alpha Pack and Blake is dead and gone, ripped to shreds in the backyard.

               On all of those stupid high school questionnaires that he received on the first day of classes, he never really knew what to put when they asked “Plans for the future.” He honestly never thought of writing down, in neat handwriting, _running with werewolves and hiding a murder from the cops and my father_ in the blank. He’s doing just that right now and, as he ties Isaac back up to the bed, he can’t help but think how dramatically his life has changed. He’s much too young for a life crisis but he’s definitely hitting that before mid-life.

               They make everything look convincing. They wipe clean their fingerprints. They eliminate all evidence that they were ever there. They undo the past few dramatic minutes. The metal bar gets wiped clean and put into place. Peter deals with the busted up front door. By the time Stiles and Scott have everything in place, promising Isaac that he’ll be set free eventually and will be back at the McCall house in no time, Derek is back in human form and he and Peter have already cleaned up the crime scene. If Stiles hadn’t seen the incident himself, he would never have guessed that someone was violently torn to shreds here only moments ago.

               “Where’s the body?” Stiles asks, looking around. He tramps through the long grass for a good three minutes before heading back and looking impressed. Some of the long grass is pulled up and plowed down like the rest of the field, fitting into the scenery, but the rest is clean and without blood. Derek, back in human form, watches Stiles curiously.

               “In trash bags in Derek’s trunk,” Peter smiles and Stiles is growing increasingly concerned with Peter’s enjoyment of the situation.

               “Are we ready to get out of here?” Scott asks, walking up to the group. “Every second here is a second closer to getting caught.”

               “I agree,” Peter nods. “Let’s get out of here.”

               Derek shrugs and nods in agreement. The four of them head towards the parked cars at the end of the driveway, stepping through the dirt in relative silence. When they arrive in front of the road, Derek tosses his car keys to Peter.

               “I’m driving?” Peter asks curiously, staring at the keys in his palm in confusion.

               “You’re taking Scott and you’re ditching Blake’s body,” Derek orders, standing still.

               “And you’re not coming with?” Scott questions. “To ditch the body. Blake’s body. The man you killed?”

               “I know,” Derek sighs. “But I’ll be riding back with Stiles. We need to talk.” Derek scratches at the back of his head before ending the conversation by turning away and heading to Stiles’ passenger side.

               That has become Stiles’ least favorite phrase. _We need to talk._ Normally _We need to talk_ prefaces break-ups and groundings, bad news and royal screw overs. To make matters worse, Stiles isn’t sure which one of those previous categories this _We need to talk_ falls into. So he shoots Scott a doomed look as he walks to the Jeep, hangs his head in desperation as he twists the key into the lock, sighs as he climbs into the driver’s seat and hits the unlock button. Derek is silent as he normally is, climbing into the passenger seat with ease. He shuts the door and clicks his seat belt into place, not yet answering the topic at hand. Stiles is more nervous than he was facing down Blake. At least when he was facing the homicidal Alpha, he knew what would happen. He’d either die or not. Here, he’s not so sure.

               Stiles can see Scott and Peter taking off into the Camaro, can see them pushing up dirt onto the dry road. It’s kind of picturesque in a way. The sky is a perfect bright blue, with a few puffy white clouds speckling the horizon. The fields of wheat are golden and swaying in the breeze, the green grass along the side of the road growing with careless abandon. There the Camaro is, a bold contrast to the vibrant colors and careful movements. It rushes along recklessly, digging up the road and speeding off, a body in pieces in garbage bags concealed within the trunk. Stiles shakes his head and tells himself to stop narrating things like the first five minutes of a murder mystery.

               By the time he snaps backs to reality however, he’s pulling away and Derek is looking at him with the same curious look again. Stiles allows his eyes to flicker over to Derek several times but he’s becoming rather accepting of the silence. Silence is better than words that hurt. Silence is better than words he can’t prepare himself for.

               “Stiles,” Derek interrupts his reverie. His voice isn’t harsh. His voice isn’t chastising. Rather, his voice is soft and smooth and understanding.

               “Derek,” Stiles responds in kind, checking the phone in his car for missed message. There are six by the way, and two phone calls. All of them from Scott and Derek.

               “I feel like we keep running into the problem where I tell you to do something and you seem to rush off and do the opposite,” Derek comments, shaking his head.

               “And I feel like we’ve had this conversation six times before,” Stiles comments back quickly.

               “I’m not riding with you to yell at you,” Derek sighs, rubbing at his forehead.

               “Really? I could have been fooled,” Stiles replies with all the sass his tired body can handle.

               “Stiles,” Derek groans and shakes his head.

               “I can guess it’s got something to do with the fact that we are _mates,”_ Stiles replies nonchalantly. He’s passed freaking out and he’s definitely passed being upset or surprised.

               “Yeah,” Derek falls silent. “I was going to tell you. It fell to a lower priority however, when Isaac was kidnapped and when the Alpha Pack kept coming after us.”

               “Awesome. I’m the lowest priority,” Stiles comments, making a sharp turn and taking satisfaction and Derek’s head hits against the passenger side window.

               “I didn’t phrase it like that!” Derek yells back.

               “You should have because the way it’s been, I’ve been getting the feeling that you weren’t ever going to tell me,” Stiles bites back. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel.

               Derek stays quiet, doesn’t utter a single word.

               “I was talking to Ethan. He says there’s a way to break off the mating thing,” Stiles decides to break the tension. “Which is probably a good idea since it’s not something you want to be in.” Stiles delivers the words with a concrete expression. He shows no sign of the tormenting sadness he’s fighting off inside. He can’t say he and Derek are particularly close so he’s got no right to feel like this is a future bad break-up but something inside of him, some small self-deprecating part of his brain, is telling him he should feel worthless. That “ _Of course Derek Hale doesn’t want to be with you. Who would_?” That part of his brain is killing him right now.

               Derek doesn’t respond indignantly. He just sighs and slams his head back against the head rest.

               The silence becomes overwhelming. Stiles can feel the tension and the rejection building up, filling the cabin of the vehicle with suffocating awkwardness. Derek doesn’t move. His eyes shift to the right so he’s looking outside the window of the moving car.

               Stiles clears his throat.

               “Where am I dropping you off?” Stiles asks, looking over at his passenger.

               “My place,” Derek comments, his voice low.

               Stiles can’t seem to keep a conversation in place. Derek responds with one word answers. He doesn’t even make eye contact so he has no clue what the Alpha is thinking.

               “So…” Stiles trails off. He reaches over and turns on the radio in the car, letting the melody of the music drown out the silence. He starts nodding his head to the beat before Derek reaches over and dials off the radio. “What are you doing?” Stiles replies carefully.

               “Okay,” Derek sits up, suddenly focusing all his attention on Stiles. “I have been trying _desperately_ to avoid having a heart-to-heart because I can’t stand them. However, I can’t think of an alternate scenario where we talk this out other than a heart-to-heart…” He trails off.

               “A heart-to-heart with Derek Hale?” Stiles looks at the Alpha in confusion. “Oh god,” Stiles groans. “I died. I died back when fighting Blake and now I’m in hell. This is my torment. I can’t believe I died.”

               “Shut up Stiles, you’re not dead!” Derek slams his forehead into his palm. “I’m trying to talk things out with you before I mess things up.”

               “Okay,” Stiles breathes out and drops the sarcastic façade. “Shoot.”

               “We’re mates,” Derek shrugs. “I didn’t want to tell you before because I failed to tell you the specifics when I started courting you or when I presented the option of me courting you in response. I didn’t tell you because it’s a forever thing. It’s all emotional and instinctual and I didn’t think you would understand. But with what happened today, I kind of have to address it.”

               “No, that’s cool,” Stiles shrugs. “Cut me out of things that involve me because you don’t think I’m intelligent enough to get it.” Stiles grits his teeth and stares out the windshield angrily.

               “Damn it, no,” Derek swears under his breath. “That’s not what I meant. Mating is different for werewolves than it is for humans. It’s deeper for werewolves. It’s an emotional commitment. Our wolves get involved with it. I can’t even explain the feelings it causes, nor do I want to. When a werewolf and a human mate, and it’s rare that it happens and stays that way, the werewolf is always at greater risk. The human can get up and leave whenever they want and they won’t emotionally suffer. The werewolf can’t. I’m tied to you, Stiles whether we’d like to admit it or not. The difference is you have a choice on whether or not you want to accept this. I don’t. I’m not aiming to push it on you either.”

               Stiles analyzes Derek’s words carefully. He listens to them and thinks about them.

               “So you weren’t going to tell me about the mating? You were going to emotionally suffer the rest of your life so I could have a love life I chose?” Stiles asks, biting his lip. He looks at Derek for conformation.

               “Yes,” Derek responds. “I knew what I was getting into when I offered to court you in response.” 

               Stiles remembers back to his first technical date with Derek. He remembers both of them on the hood of the Camaro staring out at the pond, eating food. He remembers asking Derek what would happen if Derek were to win the competition, figuring it was too far into the future to worry about. He remembers Derek commenting that they would become mates like it were no big deal, like it was nothing to worry about, like it was nothing permanent.

               “So in order to save me you put your potential for a happy love life on the line and tied yourself to me forever?” Stiles asks incredulously.        

               Derek doesn’t answer. He just blinks slowly and breathes out, staring out the window. After a while, he nods.

               “Ethan said that there was a way to break the courting. We could do that. Hell, we should do that,” Stiles comments.

               Derek shakes his head. “It would hurt you. It would hurt me. There’s really no point in pursuing it.”

               “No point?” Stiles laughs in disbelief. “Derek, you’ll be tied to me _forever._ Now, I’ve seen you lust after women so I’m fairly certain you’re not gay and you’re not in love with me. _”_

Derek closes his eyes. “I already know this.”

               “Stop being a martyr and let me help,” Stiles orders.

               “I’m not being a martyr,” Derek finally snaps and yells. “I can’t break something I’m already too deep into!”

               Stiles pauses in shock and looks over.

               “Too deep into?” He reiterates.

               Derek places a hand over his face and puts his head in his lap. “What happened today, the wolf thing…” Derek trails off.

               “Wolf thing? You mean that super-secret superpower of yours that you recently discovered? What does this have to do with anything?” Stiles asks.

               “It’s not the power itself that I’m talking about. It’s kind of what triggered the power to emerge. I’ve never done that before, obviously. I shouldn’t be able to do it either. My mother,” Stiles knows that it pains Derek to say that phrase. “She figured that since I hadn’t transformed when I was a baby like she did, like Laura did, I wouldn’t have the power. It’s a birth trait, something passed down in the genetics of my family. It’s unheard of for it to be latent. If it’s not present at birth it shouldn’t be able to be unlocked later on in life.”

               “But it did…” Stiles trailed off.

               “But it did and I know why,” Derek hesitates.

               “Mysterious. Care to share?”

               “Stiles, I’m not getting into this sappy bullshit.”

               “Oh c’mon,” Stiles begs. “I’m clearly never going to have a heart-to-heart with an actual female like this so indulge me. Drop the bad boy persona and let me in. If we’re having a chick-flick moment we’re following the _Go Big or Go Home_ philosophy. Now talk about your feelings god damn it.”

               Stiles swears he sees a smile. He knows Derek is trying awfully hard to suppress a laugh.

               “Fine,” Derek mutters. “I transformed back into the field because I knew it would help me protect you.”

               “My hero,” Stiles pretends to swoon but ends up nearly swerving off the road instead. He winces and straightens the wheel grinning at Derek sheepishly.

               “Stiles! God, fine,” Derek rolls his eyes. “I felt incredibly pissed off and helpless. Blake had injured Isaac, had you hostage and had the gall to offer me a trade for Scott. In case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t been tending to my Alpha responsibilities well recently. Two dead, one hurt, one threatened, my _mate_ kidnapped. Pardon me if I snapped a little,” Derek breathes out.

               “I break things when I snap, not transform into a WOLF,” Stiles comments.

               “I can’t explain it,” Derek shakes his head. “I had already transformed and I felt like I needed to transform more than that.”

               “Yes, into a wolf.”

               “Stiles if you keep interrupting I’m going to kill you.”

               “You can’t kill me, I’m your mate.”

               “I will find a loophole,” Derek responds back smugly.

               “Fine,” Stiles groans in defeat.

               “I channeled into the hatred and helplessness and I kind of just zoned into my wolf. I just kept concentrating on how I needed to save you and the pack. I kept thinking how shitty I would be as a werewolf if I allowed my mate to get killed not even a week after we sealed the courtship. Next thing I know my bones are breaking and fur is sprouting,” Derek continues to narrate his story.

               “The power of love transformed you into a majestic wolf?” Stiles smiles. “Aw, you love me.”

               “Stiles,” Derek yells and covers his face again, sighing.

               “Okay, okay,” Stiles laughs.

               “I was fighting it the entire time because it was so unusual. It didn’t feel right. It hurt like hell and it felt like my wolf was taking over completely. It felt like my first full moon all over again,” Derek grits his teeth together. “I thought if I let go of it all like Peter and Deucalion were telling me to, I would’ve lost control and hurt everybody.”

               “You weren’t grounded,” Stiles commented and Derek just nods.

               “No. So I fought against it and,” Derek breathes out unsteadily, “that hurt even more. It wasn’t until I heard you beg me for help that I…” Derek trails off.

               Stiles’ eyes widen as he pulls in front of a stop sign. He watches Derek cautiously.

               “I was the one who grounded you,” Stiles phrases it like a statement because he already knows that it’s the truth.

               “It’s not that simple,” Derek leans against the window, his hand running through his hair. “When you’re that far gone you can’t really be grounded. It’s reckless abandon. It’s all instinctual. You hand over your humanity during the transformation. You didn’t ground me, per say. I just knew that when you cried for help that I could turn without worry because even my wolf wouldn’t hurt you. I was so focused on saving you that I had no problem with transforming.”

               “I’m telling you, man,” Stiles laughs. “The power of love."

               Derek sighs heavily. “Which is why I had to address the mating.”

               “Because you love me,” Stiles pushes.

               “Because my wolf is irreversibly tied to you to the extent that it’ll dig up latent skills to save your ass,” Derek explains

               “Your wolf loves me, then,” Stiles smiles, acting smug even though his heart is skipping a beat.

               “My wolf is in love with you,” Derek admits.

               Stiles is about to come up with a snarky response laced with sarcasm having something to do with Derek admitting his innermost feelings. He’s taken by surprise by the honesty of the response as he never expected Derek to actually admit to anything. He’s taken by surprise so much in fact that he actually doesn’t know how to respond.

               “Oh,” Stiles responds awkwardly. He holds his breath trying to come up with a response.

               “Yeah,” Derek agrees.

               “I’m going to be honest and tell you I don’t know how to respond to that,” Stiles responds.

               “I didn’t expect you to.”

               “So breaking this mating would hurt your wolf and consequently, you?” Stiles asks and looks over to the passenger seat. Derek looks absolutely pained for a minute and shifts positions on his seat so he’s looking out the window again.

               “I,” Derek stops. “I really don’t want to think about that but yeah, probably.”

               “Rationally the wolf part of you can hear this conversation right now and understands what’s going on. How did he, uh, it, react to the last question?” Stiles investigates, unsure of how to address the wolf who is technically Derek.

               “I was born a wolf. The wolf part of me is still technically me. It’s not like an alter-ego or anything but it’s definitely a separate entity. A separate mindset if you will. He works as a pronoun,” Derek addresses.

               “Okay, how did _he_ react to the last question?”

               Derek zones out and looks down, sitting still for a long moment.

               “Well he’s not happy with it. Don’t hit me for objectifying you but, to the wolf, he thinks it’s unfair that he won against Ethan in a courting competition and suddenly you’re backing out. It’s a deeper sort of rejection, really,” Derek even looks awkward while speaking.

               “I’m not rejecting you,” Stiles interjects.

               “This is heading way past chick-flick moment,” Derek admits and Stiles laughs.

               “Are you uncomfortable with us discussing our feelings and love?” Stiles asks.

               “A little,” Derek groans sarcastically.

               “We’re going to have to talk about what we’re doing with this mating eventually. Might as well do it now since you brought it up,” Stiles shrugs. While he’s acting nonchalant again, Stiles is not sure what to say, how he feels. He’s feeling awkward and out of place but he knows the conversation needs to happen.

               “You’re in high school. You’re too young to be discussing what you want to do with the entire future of your love life.”

               “Yet you have decided what you’re doing with yours. Pining after me,” Stiles replies truthfully.

               “I’m not forcing you into anything,” Derek replies, crossing his arms.

               “I’m going to take this from chick-flick to the beginning of soft core porn,” Stiles introduces as he pulls into Beacon Hills. “I know you’re not forcing me into anything but since this situation seems so inevitable and seeing as though we are already mated, why not,” Stiles winces as he contemplates finishing the sentence, “See what happens?”

               “Stiles are you suggesting we date to see what happens?” Derek asks for clarification.

               “Oh god, don’t phrase it like that,” Stiles groans. “I’m just saying that perhaps it would benefit us to perhaps, address the nature of our relationship change. That perhaps it would set your wolf’s conscience at ease if we uh…” Stiles stops mid-sentence. “Oh to hell with it. You’re attractive in a male-analysis sort of way, I’m sarcastic in a lovable sort of way. Let’s date.”

               Derek sighs and closes his eyes, leaning back into the chair.

               “That’s the most unromantic way to ask someone out ever. No wonder why women don’t date you,” Derek scoffs.

               “Hey!” Stiles replies indignantly. “They… date… me? Well no they don’t but you’re already dating me!”

               “We’re mates,” Derek clarifies.

               “So we’re practically married already, _sweetheart,”_ Stiles teases.

               “Well we bicker like it,” Derek comments.

               “So…” Stiles pushes him. “I’m already standing on unsteady ground in terms of evaluating my sexuality and romantic future because of all of this so, Derek Hale, what would you say to dating me?” Stiles asks with a meek smile.

               “I’m the Alpha here,” Derek growls. “I’m supposed to be asking you out. And we’re already dating technically.”

               “Technically we’re werewolf married but it’s about the tradition of it,” Stiles whines.

               “Stiles, date me,” Derek responds angrily, crossing his arms.

               “That’s the most metal way to ask someone out ever,” Stiles laughs. “No feeling whatsoever.”

               “Stiles,” Derek warns.

               “No,” Stiles responds.

               “No?” Derek yells.

               “Not until you do it appropriately.”

               “Stiles Stilinski, you annoying idiot, will you date me?” Derek asks through clenched teeth.

               “I’ll forgive the annoying idiot clause and say yes,” Stiles laughs.

               “You’re going to kill me,” Derek groans and slides down into his seat, his hands covering his face.

               “Yeah but you’ll love every minute of it,” Stiles laughs and turns on the radio in the car, a sort of awkward tension falling away with the recent conversation. Truthfully, Stiles needs the music to shut out his thought process.

This past school year has changed a lot for him. Scott’s a werewolf. He runs with werewolves. He’s almost died an uncountable amount of times and, oh yeah, he’s currently _dating Derek Hale._ It’s something he never expected to happen. When he ran into the brooding and mysterious man in the woods many weeks back, right before Scott’s life took a dramatic turn, he never expected him to become his boyfriend. Hell, he never expected to have a boyfriend let alone one like Derek.

“My life has taken a dramatic twist,” Derek rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone and starts texting.

“That’s something we can agree upon. Before Peter turned Scott, believe it or not, my life was actually boring,” Stiles laughs, driving close to Derek’s loft.

“Let’s blame it on Peter. That seems to work,” Derek grins.

“Did they find a place to hide the body?” Stiles asks before giving a weird look, pondering the surrealistic aspect of the conversation and question.

“Yeah but not in town,” Derek puts his phone back in his pocket. “With Blake’s recent string of crimes the police are anticipating future burials in the woods. Peter knows a place apparently.”

“Of course he does,” Stiles grins. “Aren’t you a little suspicious of him?”

“Of course I’m suspicious of him,” Derek groans. “He killed my sister, tried to kill me. He turned Scott. He’s on a short leash right now but he’s been helpful so far so I’m keeping him around. I need all the help I can get with the Alpha Pack in town. ”

Stiles pulls into the parking lot below Derek’s loft, shifting him car over to park and staring over the Alpha awkwardly.

               “Sooo….” Stiles trails off. Derek rolls his eyes and gets out of the passenger seat. Just when Stiles thinks that he’s going to leave without a goodbye, Derek circles around the front of the car and knocks on Stiles’ driver-side window. Stiles rolls down the pane of glass sheepishly.

               “Alright,” Derek starts. “I’m not clingy and I’m not overly-emotional so if you’re expecting that out of this relationship…” He trails off.

               “I’m not,” Stiles intervenes. To be honest, he’s not sure what he’s expecting from this relationship. Relationships aren’t exactly his area of expertise so he is standing on unsteady ground here. “But since we’re being open right now, I didn’t actually expect you to _tell_ me that I’m your mate. I thought I would have to confront you about it and damn near torture it out of you so I’m guessing this isn’t what you expected as the outcome to this conversation?”

               “Not quite,” Derek shakes his head.

               “But it’s not, like… bad, right?” Stiles stutters. “It’s not something horribly unbearable, dating me, right?” Stiles knows he is showing his lack of positive self-image. He know he is showing how little he thinks of himself.

               Derek snorts and looks away. “No,” Derek laughs. “Not unbearable.” Derek taps at Stiles’ door, beating out an anxious rhythm before looking back. He makes eyes contact with Stiles and exhales slowly. He rubs at his nose before clearing his throat. “As I said, I’m not going to be clingy or call you to talk about my feelings but since we’re dating and you’re my mate…. you can call me if you need something or, hell, you just want to rant while I zone off about how you talk too much,” Derek offers.

               “Aww, how nice. How about if another Alpha comes to kill me again?” Stiles asks, raising an eyebrow.

               “Call especially if another Alpha comes to kill you again. Due to recent events, however, I don’t think anyone will be trying that,” Derek smiles.

               “Because I have big powerful boyfriend now?” Stiles laughs. “Who can, you know, turn into a big full size wolf.”

               “Yes,” Derek agrees with a smirk. “Go home, Stiles. Be there when you’re father gets there. Ask him how his day was. Relax and heal. We have some well needed down time.”

               Stiles nods. “For once, I’m actually considering listening to you.”

               Derek groans and puts his hand over his face. “One last thing,” He comments.

               “Yes?” Stiles acts flirtatiously and Derek groans again.

               "Hold onto your panties for this Stiles, but I would actually like to go out again,” Derek comments.

               Stiles’ jaw drops. “What?”

               “Don’t give me that look,” He reaches over and shuts Stiles’ open mouth. “I said I would like to go out again. We’ve agreed to date. I don’t want my entire future love life to consist of one date before mating with you just because it was a race to beat out Ethan. I understand that you don’t know much about werewolf customs but courting is normally much longer and without failed murder attempts. It absolutely pains me to admit this but my wolf is attached to you and something feels off that we fell together out of desperation. So I want to do this right, I want to do this by tradition. So I want to go out again sometimes. A second attempt at courting, I suppose?” Derek shifts back and forth awkward.

               “You actually want to date me?” Stiles asks in disbelief.

               “I’m not dating you out of necessity. I wouldn’t do that,” Derek shakes his head. “I’d break the mating if it made me absolutely miserable and if I thought it wasn’t good for at least once of us or that it couldn’t work out. I was content before to keep the mating because it didn’t effect anyone. Sure, it would’ve emotionally pained me to follow you and watch you date someone else but it wouldn’t have killed me. Since we’ve discussed this and decided to date I figure I might as well not half-ass it.”

               Stiles stays silent and considers Derek’s words. Derek actually _wants_ to date him. He _wants_ to date him and not only out of necessity and being forced into it.

               “I, uh-,” Stiles starts speaking without knowing what he’s going to stay. “Yeah, I’m open to trying the courting thing again. I probably got a bad impression from Ethan though.”

               “I know you did,” Derek shakes his head. “Alright, I’m going to sleep for a long time. Go to bed for once, Stiles. Have your phone on though. I’m calling a pack meeting when Isaac and the rest get back. Shoot me a text when your father returns as well. Let me know how things went,” Derek orders.

               “Will do,” Stiles nods, eager to head home and wait for his father to return. He’s antsy to know if his father bought into their plan and if his father will lecture him as to why Isaac was in the killer’s basement. More than anything, he wants to shower for a long time to clean out his wounds and wash the tension away from his body. He wants to fall asleep without worrying about the imminent threat of death.

               “I’ll talk to you later, Stiles,” Derek taps on his door and waves, heading into his flat.

               “Wait,” Stiles reaches out to grab Derek’s sleeve as he turns away. Derek turns back and raises an eyebrow at Stiles’, looking down at the hand on his sleeve. “Sorry, I just,” Stiles sighs. “Are we keeping this a secret from everyone?”

               Derek looks Stiles up and down. “We should for a little while at least,” Derek sighs. “Unless you want to explain to your father why you’re dating a _man_ who you accused of murder before. I’m going to need time to explain this to the pack as well. I wouldn’t say secrecy but discretion is a good idea.”

               “Got it, secrecy,” Stiles smiles and puts his foot to the brake, turning his car back on and switching it into reverse. “Text you later, _sweetie.”_ Stiles laughs and pulls away before Derek can yell at his or, if he loses control of himself, slam his head into a steering wheel (again).

               He drives back to his house, his mind filled with worries for his father, concerns for Isaac and a nagging thought of _I’m dating Derek Hale._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured that was a good place to leave off. I finally got to the endgame ship! See guys?   
> I remember when I was getting inboxed about why this was a Stiles/Ethan fic and not a Stiles/Derek fic like I promised and this is what I was working towards .  
> I had all of the story mapped out up until this point and it was waiting in my dorm room to get typed up but the semester killed me in terms of free time. 
> 
> Another unfortunate happenstance? I had to rewrite Ch 14 & Ch 15 because I acquired a virus on my laptop. It absolutely killed my laptop and I had to wipe everything on it, including those chapters in order to get it to work again. 
> 
> But, yes... The story was mapped UP UNTIL THIS POINT. I only intended to get to them dating, them falling together finally after all of the struggle BUTTTTT I'm leaving the option up to you guys. I can keep this story going because I have some ideas. We can find out about Derek as the wolf, Isaac coming back, Stiles' father's suspicions, Stiles getting closure with Blake, some Scott/Isaac friendship, and LOTS of Sterek fluff. I even have a side-plot written if you wish for me to continue. This story has become like this gigantic project of mine and it's reached over 90K words. This is officially longer than my independent novel I've been working on. But that's okay! My attention stays on fanfiction longer anyway. 
> 
> So yes, Read and Review. Tell me what you think, if you'd be interested in reading this if I continued.   
> I've got some dates planned out & more explanations   
> But I don't want to drag this on and on and on. So it's up to you guys! 
> 
> Thank you for surviving that hellish hiatus of me not updating from August until January. (Literally half a year). If you started reading it after the hiatus thank you for reading it now. I appreciate any feedback I get. 
> 
> (Also, I have another Sterek work planned out as well. It's a Magic!AU. but more details will be announced on those as I make progress on it)


	20. Momentary Pleasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I last left off with Derek and Stiles finally dating. I haven't updated for a long time so... fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have no excuse for not updating in like forever except school and a full-time job really took everything out of me, including inspiration. But I'm back with a new chapter and an apology.

Isaac isn’t entirely sure that he can rate this week as the “worst week of his life”. He’s definitely had far worse but this week, these past few days in the grasp of Blake and his torture basement, have been trying. He’s been bred as a fighter and he’s positive that had he not been conditioned by his father towards unkind treatment, he would have caved and succumbed to Blake’s demands.

                The Sheriff woke up earlier than Isaac expected. He blinked warily around the room before his whole body turned into panic mode, his whole posture screaming alertness. Isaac sat on the bed staring up at the ceiling to pass the time. More than anything, he wanted to be untied. He’s sick of staring at the walls of Blake’s basement. He knows it’s necessary to maintain their cover that he stays here but he’s sick of knowing that he’s technically free but still tied up in the basement.

                The Sheriff handled everything methodically. He told Isaac to stay put while he scaled the stairs, pushing the door open and finding it unlocked. He was just a little bit skeptical at this point but didn’t say anything. He promised Isaac that he would return with help. The next few minutes were a whirlwind of activity for Isaac and Isaac remembers very little of how he was “saved”. He remembers the Sheriff coming back down the stairs, phone in hand, gun on his hip and a pocket knife opened. Isaac remembers staring gratefully as the Sheriff freed him from bondage, as the Sheriff pulled him into a big hug and passed on reassurances. Isaac remembers the police showing up in no time, of detective coming up and asking him questions as he sat on the back of the ambulance. He fought against the care, of course, having no logical way to explain away his rapidly healing wounds and the pair of claw marks on his back.

                The Sheriff saved him from the questions and from being fussed over by the emergency responders, claiming that Isaac was in too much shock to recall the situation with much detail. The Sheriff reassured the pestering officers that he would bring Isaac to the statement later in the evening to take down his report. The Sheriff, after having his head patched up and his reflexes re-evaluated for any lingering effects of the drug, decided to take a leave and offered to take Isaac back home.

                Bundled up in the Sheriff’s truck, the window down and wind rushing through his hair, Isaac fell asleep safely, trusting the Sheriff to take him home. Isaac woke up a good while later, vaguely blinking awake to see the passing of the “Welcome to Beacon Hills” sign. He looked over half asleep to the Sheriff who smiled down in amusement and understanding. Just as Isaac was blinking fully awake he was pulling into the McCall’s driveway. He saw Melissa McCall and Scott standing in the driveway anxiously, watching the truck pull in. When the truck rolled gently to a stop, Isaac pushed the door open sluggishly and stepped to the ground with fatigued steps. Before he could walk a few feet, Melissa McCall was running over, pulling Isaac into her arms and nearly sobbing.

                “I’m so glad that you’re okay, Isaac,” She blinks slowly, her lips pursed as if she were trying to fight off a bout of crying.

                “Me too, Ms. McCall,” Isaac smiles back tiredly.

                “Let’s get you inside and, I bet you’re hungry. And tired. You can have some dinner that’s in the oven then you’ll go straight to bed. Or showering. Whatever you’re up for. Of course you’re not going to school tomorrow. Oh Isaac, you’re probably still in shock. You need time to heal, let’s get inside,” She wraps an arm around Isaac’s back and tugs him back to the door.

                “Can I stay home from school tomorrow, too?” Scott asks expectantly.

                “No, Scott,” She returns sternly.

                “But Mom! Isaac probably really needs a friend right now. It would be emotionally in his interests if I were to stay home with him and make sure he heals and all of that. Sound body, sound mind,” Scott argues, a tone of whining in his voice.

                “Scott, you’re going to school and you’re not going to argue with me,” Melissa demands and Scott hangs his head in defeat.

                As he’s being carted off, Isaac passes Scott and shoots him a thumbs up and a shit-eating grin. Scott tries his best not to growl and pout.

                Scott stares awkwardly at the Sheriff, scratching the back of his head.

                “We need to talk about you kids withholding information,” The Sheriff points at Scott and Scott desperately wishes he had followed him mother back into the house.

                “Sheriff, we weren’t-,“ Scott starts but the Sheriff holds up a hand to silence him.

                “Don’t. I don’t want you kids to feel like you can’t come to me when you’re in trouble. Contrary to teenagers’ popular belief, the job of the cops isn’t to make your lives harder,” The Sheriff argues.

                “Thank you for finding Isaac,” Scott changes the subject and looks at the door as his mother descends the steps once again.

                “Thank you so much,” Melissa pulls the Sheriff into a large hug and Scott takes this as his cue to leave. He heads up the stairs to attend to Isaac.

                “Scott!” The Sheriff yells before Scott enters the house.

                “Yes sir?” Scott turns back around, hoping that the Sheriff isn’t going to yell at him again.

                “Can you do me a favor?” The Sheriff asks and Melissa looks between the two men with confusion.

                “Yes sir, anything,” Scott responds, indebted to the man who sought out Isaac.

                “Keep an eye on Stiles? I’m not so stupid to believe he tells me anything and I don’t think he’s exactly… okay right now. Can you just make sure he’s alright now and then? Talk to him?” The Sheriff asks desperately.

                Scott smiles back, lodging this information in the back of his mind for the next time Stiles goes on a rant as to how his father is “totally unfair” and “doesn’t understand me”.

                “I already am,” Scott smiles. “He may not be okay now but he’ll get there.”

                “Thank you, kid. You’re a good friend,” The Sheriff reassures and Scott smiles again before entering the house, leaving his mother and the Sheriff to talk amongst themselves.

                Scott walks in to Isaac shoving food into his mouth like a homeless man who hasn’t eaten in two weeks. He’s already down a plate and working on finishing off the other.

                “I think I once read something about how someone who is starved should be fed slowly because of…” Scott stalls, failing to remember the exact reason, “reasons.”

                Isaacs snorts while chewing, blinking tiredly at his friend.

                “I haven’t eaten in a few days,” Isaac reminds him. “Tied in a basement. Didn’t want to accept food from Blake.”

                “Good call,” Scott sits down at the table, having already eaten. “I’m glad you’re back.”

                “I’m glad I’m back too,” Isaac smiles with a full mouth. “I’ll convince your mom to let you stay home tomorrow too.”

                “No,” Scott shakes his head. “I should go with Stiles,” Scott stares down at his shoes. “Unless his father keeps him home too but I doubt it.”

                “Yeah,” Isaac nods. “I’ll probably just sleep anyway. You should go with Stiles. He’s had quite a few injuries and he doesn’t have intense-werewolf healing speeds either.”

                “Nope,” Scott agrees. “He’s painfully human.”

                Isaac clears off his second and half plate of food quickly, placing his empty plate into the sink and stumbling back over to stand by the table. At this time, Melissa is coming back into the house, a small smile on her face.

                “Did you eat something?” She asks Isaac.

                “Two and a half plates of something,” Scott answers with a slight chuckle.

                “Good,” Melissa beams. “Are you going to shower tonight or are you going straight to bed?”

                “I’d like to sleep,” Isaac smiles, his body showing evident signs of sleep deprivation and fatigue. “I’ll shower tomorrow. Probably less of a chance of me falling asleep in the process.”

                “Right then,” Melissa smiles. “I’ve got to head off to work but let’s get you straight into bed and Scott can keep any eye on you.”

                Scott helps Isaac up the stairs, leading him to Isaac’s bed, pushing him down onto the covers. Isaac is nearly asleep by the time he hits the mattress.

                “Good night Isaac,” Melissa fawns over her ‘second son’. “I’m glad you’re home.”

                “Me too,” Isaac agrees, his eyelids fluttering shut.

                Melissa leaves the room and Scott awkwardly hangs behind as Isaac watches him carefully. Scott clears his throat and points at the door, grumbling incoherent ramblings.

                “I’m just going to,” he points to the door again. “Door?”

                “Can you not ‘door’?” Isaac laughs tiredly. “I know this crosses the bro line but can you like, stay in here or something? Being tied in a basement tests your nerves a little. I just kind of need some resemblance of _pack_ right now.”

                Scott nods empathetically and grins sadly. “Yeah, I’m just going to get my backpack and I’ll be back in.”

                By the time Scott enters back into the room, Isaac is fast asleep. He breathes heavily, his pillow wrapped between his two arms in a tight embrace. Scott rolls his eyes before sitting himself at the desk in the room, pulling out his homework and trying to complete his assignments. He shoots a quick text message to Derek.

                **To Derek (8:32:30PM): Isaac is home. Out cold.**

Scott works for a few minutes before he receives a text message back.

                **From Derek (8:45:50PM): That’s good. Keep an eye on him. Stiles is back home too.**

**To Derek (8:47:08PM): Isaac is staying home from school tomorrow. Mom’s orders.**

**From Derek (8:49:23PM): Mother knows best. Full Moon day after tomorrow.**

**To Derek (8:50:10PM): Want us to come over Tues after school?**

**From Derek (8:51:20PM): Probably a good call. Bring Stiles.**

**To Derek (8:51:40PM): Stiles?**

**From Derek (8:52:30PM): Mate. Don’t ask questions. Finish your homework McCall.**

**From Derek (8:52:40PM): Get some sleep.**

Scott snorts and shoots back a reply, checking over at Isaac to see him still fast asleep.

                **To Derek (8:53:30PM): Yes Mom. Good night.**

Scott turns his phone over and tries to complete his homework.

                When Melissa McCall heads out to work an hour later, she finds Isaac passed out on the bed and Scott fast asleep on his desk, his face buried in an Economics textbook. She manages to coerce Scott to his bed, throwing a comforter over him and heading to clock into her shift. She’s glad her two sons are back home and safe.

                [ **Stilinski Residence]**

Stiles watches from the couch as his father stumbles in, holding a bag of ice to his head. Stiles pulls the hoodie closer around him, trying to conceal the shallow claw marks on his neck. He’s in a load of pain doesn’t want to convey any of this through his posture or facial expressions. He already aggravated the wounds on his legs but his stitches have been strong enough to hold out during the overexertion. Stiles is wrapped up under a blanket, staring at the flickering of the TV screen. His ankle throbs, his neck itches, he just finished cleaning out his nose of dried blood and he’s questioning whether or not he got all the glass out of his arm. He’s been quite abused these last few days.

                He’s not entirely sure his father read his medical files from the crash so he’s hoping he can play most of his injuries off as a consequence of the crash. The claw marks on his neck need to stay hidden as they’re currently his most recent injury and can, in no believable way, be linked to the car crash. So Stiles pulls up his shirt, zips up his hoodie and shrinks back into the blanket. His father sighs and sets the bag of ice on the living room table, slumping down into the recliner. He stares at Stiles with a small smile.

                “How are you feeling, kid?” His father asks, rubbing at his forehead carefully.

                “Probably the same as you. Heard you had a run in with a suspect. How are _you_ feeling?” Stiles asks, wanting to get the subject of conversation away from himself and his current condition.

                “I’m feeling like I was drugged and knocked over the head a few times. Oh hey, I was! But I wasn’t in a car accident and I didn’t lie to my father about my friend getting kidnapped,” His father raises an eyebrow in his direction.

                “I didn’t,” Stiles starts arguing.

                “Save it,” His father silences him. “Next time you’re in trouble, you tell me. I don’t want to have to hear about your friend being kidnapped from Melissa while she’s crying in worry.” His father leans back in the recliner. “I don’t want to have to hear about you being in a car accident from Deaton.”

                “I’m sorry,” Stiles shakes his head, feeling ashamed that he had deceived his father and not even pinned him as intelligent enough to figure out he was lying to him.

                “Don’t be sorry, Stiles,” His father prefaces and Scott knows the ending. “Just don’t be stupid. Now how are you feeling?”

                “Sore,” Stiles groans. “Everything hurts. I’m beginning to feel everything again and let me tell you, everything isn’t okay.”

                “You’ll heal,” the Sheriff laughs, sitting up.

                “Do I have to go to school tomorrow?” Stiles whines.

                “Don’t you have practice?”

                “I...,” Stiles trails off looking at the ceiling. “Might have practice tomorrow.”

                “We’ll see how you feel,” his father surprisingly answers. Stiles stares at his father like he’s suddenly become possessed by the devil. “Stiles, don’t look at me that way. I actually accept getting into a car crash as a valid reason for missing school. Did you eat?”

                “Already ate,” Stiles waves dismissively, “I might actually go to bed early.”

                His father reciprocates the same look Stiles gave him only moments ago and Stiles groans.

                “I’m retiring early too, kid,” His father stands up from the recliner and walks over to the couch, offering out a hand for Stiles. Stiles accepts it and pulls himself up with the assistance, groaning and hissing as he moves forward. “You sound like you’re forty,” His father shakes his head. Stiles sits up and waits a minute before trying to stand. His father helps him to a standing position as well and Stiles tries not to cry out as he places pressure on his ankle and legs. Stiles’ father tries to bear some of Stiles’ weight.

                With much maneuvering and pauses, the Sheriff and Stiles head upstairs and Stiles ends up collapsing in his bed breathless. The Sheriff is short of breath too and looks down at Stiles, patting his shoulder. “You’ll be fine, kiddo. Sleep up,” His father pulls him into a hug.

                “Are you working tomorrow?” Stiles asks hesitantly.

                “Yeah, unfortunately,” His dad sighs. “I’m on desk duty for a little bit while I close down some case files and try to find the suspect I lost today. I’ll be home at night though and we can go out for dinner or something. We both need to treat ourselves after what happened.”

                “Sounds great,” Stiles smiles tiredly.

                “Go to bed. I’ll be in my room if you need anything,” Stiles’ father smiles and stands up, heading out into the hallway and shutting the light out.         

                Stiles lays in bed staring at the ceiling for an eternity, unable to shut out his mind. He shifts position several times, changes the amount of pillows he uses, exposes some limbs from under the covers and covers up other limbs. He ends up flailing in his bed instead of actually sleeping, his blankets becoming a knot under him.

                He reaches for his phone and scrolls through his contacts.

                **To Scott (10:12:30PM): You awake?**

After not receiving an answer for twenty minutes, Stiles groans and sighs heavily. He scrolls through his contacts again figuring Isaac is asleep as well. He tries one more contact.

                **To Derek (10:30:05PM): Are you awake?**

He’s not sure the Alpha will be up but he did say Stiles could text him if he needed something, and right now, Stiles could use someone to talk to. A few minutes later and his phone is vibrating.

                **From Derek (10:34:10PM): Yes. What’s going on?**

Stiles is glad for the response and stares at the message for a while before deciding to text back.

                **To Derek (10:37:23PM): I just need to talk to someone. Can’t sleep. Can I call you?**

Instead of a reply, Stiles feels his phone vibrating with the caller ID indicating that Derek is calling him. He presses the “accept call” button and puts the speaker to his ear.

                “Hello?” He whispers quietly, trying to ensure that his father doesn’t overhear the conversation.

                “Stiles?” The voice on the other line answers and Stiles sighs out in relief. “Are you okay?”

                Stiles is silent for a minute and looks off into the darkness of his room.

                “I’m fine,” Stiles finally answers. “I just… can’t sleep. So much has happened.”

                “Do you want me to come over?” Derek asks and the other end of the line is so devoid of background noise that Stiles wonders what the Alpha actually does in his free time. He can’t be training teenagers to be killing machines or prowling the woods in wolf form.

                “Come over?” Stiles questions, “My dad’s still home. I’m not hurt, well I am but I’m not overly hurt. I’m just…” Stiles realizes that he can’t come up with the word to describe exactly how he’s feeling. He’s not entirely lonely and he’s not scared but he just can’t fall asleep because of all the things his mind can’t shut out. He feels like his mind keeps rewinding to the horrendous parts of the last few days and every time he’s done reviewing them, they start over again. He feels like he’s stuck in a loop of the things he’d rather no relieve. He is not even sure how to sit and enjoy the silence of his room, the comforting darkness of being home with his father snoring two doors down.

                “I understand,” Derek whispers back and even though Stiles doubts that the man has to lower his voice, he’s probably doing it to fit the current feel of the situation. A small bit of anxiety dies in Stiles’ chest at the response. The last thing he wanted was to spend this conversation talking to Derek about why he can’t sleep, about why he’s feeling so much stress and anxiety.

                “What are you doing right now?” Stiles asks curiously. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?” Stiles would feel bad if he woke up Derek from his sleep. He seems like the kind of guy to only fall asleep when his body physically could not stay up any longer.

                “No,” Derek replies gruffly on the other end. “I was just reading.”

                Stiles tries to think about Derek reading in his apartment, tries to think of the buff Alpha flipping through the pages of a hardcover book in a dimly lit room while actually absorbing the words. Stiles tries to imagines Derek smiling at the happy parts, frowning at the sad ones. The second thing he thinks of is Derek stretched out on a couch, book in hand and a drink in the other while Stiles is spread out on the other end, reading on his back with his book held over his face, their feet intertwined in the middle. Stiles shakes that thought from his mind and sighs.

                “Didn’t know you read,” Stiles comments.

                “I don’t spend my entire time running through the woods, saving you guys’ asses, though lately it feels like it. I have hobbies,” Derek scoffs and Stiles chuckles softly.

                “Alright,” Stiles fluffs up his pillow. “Tell me about your hobbies.”

                Derek is silent for a long minute before he clears his throat.

                “I like to read and I like to work out when I’m bored. If it’s nice I like to take the Camaro somewhere remote and head out for a hike. I swim when I can find a place that’s deserted and I meditate,” Derek replies ad Stiles is taken back by the fact that Derek actually responded back honestly. He tries to think of Derek doing these activities, of Derek spending his free time with these hobbies and the image is oddly relaxing. His mind keeps drifting to himself in these activities as well, alongside Derek.

                “I won’t be able to sleep,” Stiles pulls at his hair and responds honestly as well, “not tonight.”

                “I can come over,” Derek offers again. “Your dad won’t hear me. It might put your mind at ease.”

                Stiles looks at his door hesitantly, as if he could see through walls to where his father was sleeping. He won’t question how Derek would be able to sneak into his room soundlessly. He chooses his answer carefully. He could really use someone in the room to silence his mind. As much as he would be placing himself inside another potentially awkward situation his body is physically tired but his mind won’t give him any relief.

                “Can you?” Stiles asks softly, closing his eyes.

                “I’ll leave now.” Derek responds, hanging up the phone. Stiles puts his phone back on his night stand and bundles up in his blankets, staring up at the ceiling. Stiles waits in silence for a few minutes, his mind running wild with scenes of transforming Alphas, near-death experiences, mind-numbing pain and near-sex scenes. The darkness is only mildly comforting. He can’t seem to settle down enough to allow his eyes to close. It’s as if he just had six cups of coffee and now has to go make a huge speech in front of a lecture hall of distinguished students and important professors. There’s anxiety, his heart is beating rapidly, he’s breathless and he feels like there’s something more important that he should be doing. The last few days his mind was focused on saving people, himself and Isaac and about what Alpha he was going to end up spending the remaining part of his life with. Right now, his mind is only focused on sleep and it’s an odd feeling for him.

                Stiles doesn’t recall how many minutes pass before there’s someone walking into his room. Stiles sits up in bed automatically and looks to his bedroom door in panic. Derek’s posture relaxes in the dark and he holds up two hands in front of them, one of them moving towards his face to put a finger against his lips. Stiles sighs and slumps back down into bed, glad that someone else hasn’t broken into his house in the middle of the night to kill him.

                Derek closes the door behind him and crosses the room silently, his footsteps not making any sound on the floorboards and carpet. Stiles moves to the far end of his bed and Derek takes this as an invitation to sit on the edge.

                “How did you get in?” Stiles asks suspiciously. “The door is locked.”

                “The window in your kitchen isn’t,” Derek responds nonchalantly and Stiles tries to imagine the Alpha climbing in through the high kitchen window silently, without making any sound.

                “We have an alarm system,” Stiles accuses, narrowing his eyes.

                “Not on the window in your kitchen,” Derek smiles and Stiles rolls his eyes.

                “That makes me feel really safe for some reason,” Stiles comments sarcastically on how easy it was for Derek to break into their house while no one heard him. Derek doesn’t respond. He just looks down at Stiles in the darkness.

                Stiles does not feel like the silence is particularly awkward. He’s been in awkward silences before where every second without conversation or talking feels as uncomfortable as someone poking you in the shoulder repeatedly after you’ve already told them to stop four times. This doesn’t feel like that. Derek’s posture isn’t angry or threatening. He simply lounges against the backboard and silently grabs the top blanket off of Stiles’ cover cocoon in order to cover up his legs.

                “Thank you for coming,” Stiles looks at Derek, yawning softly.

                “It’s not a problem,” Derek remarks.

                “Sorry for interrupting your reading,” Stiles feels guilty. Derek could be at home relaxing right now but Stiles pulled him away from his home because his stupid mind doesn’t know how to power down.

                “You didn’t interrupt anything. I had just started. Plus, I’m glad the call interrupting me was just because you couldn’t sleep not anyone getting murdered or almost murdered.”

                Stiles shakes his head and rubs at his eyes.

                “No, I just can’t sleep. I’m so tired and I cannot fall asleep,” Stiles whines. His body is physically exhausted beyond repair. He needs to fall asleep to heal. “Can you kill me so I can sleep?”

                “No,” Derek responds. “Or else the trouble I’ve been through the entire last week would be negated. Did you try counting sheep or something?”

                Stiles attempts to glare at Derek but bursts out laughing instead, a hilarious mental image coming to mind. Derek moves quickly and places a hand over Stiles’ mouth, silencing his laughing.

                “You’re going to wake your father,” Derek whispers, his face close to Stiles’ ear. “Why are you laughing?”

                Stiles calms down and pulls Derek’s hand away from his mouth.

                “I tried to count sheep,” Stiles explains, “But then I had the mental image of you and the pack hunting down the sheep before I could count them.” Stiles resists the urge to start laughing again.

                “Stiles,” Derek groans. “Don’t wake your father. Imagine how you would explain to him why I’m in your bed in the middle of the night.”

                “Hi Dad,” Stiles whispers. “This is my boyfriend, Derek. I couldn’t sleep so he came to cuddle with me. He broke in through the kitchen window because it was unlocked and the alarm doesn’t work there. Easy.”

                Derek scoffs and rubs at his forehead in disbelief.

                “I didn’t come to cuddle with you,” Derek replies indignantly.

                “Cuddling would help me sleep,” Stiles grins maliciously. “I’m your mate and boyfriend. Isn’t cuddling in the contract?”

                “There is no contract,” Derek crosses his arms in front of him.

                “So there’s no cuddling?” Stiles pouts looking at Derek pathetically. In all fairness, he’s not really trying to push Derek towards cuddling. He’s testing the waters. He’s not even positive that cuddling will help him sleep, he just wants to irritate Derek, poke fun at him, as he normally does.

                Derek sighs and lets his head fall back against the headboard. “Do you want to cuddle?” Derek asks seriously. 

                “I…” Stiles responds, having not expected the response or question. “I would not be opposed to cuddling.”

                Derek lays down on the bed, pushing his head onto Stiles’ pillow. Derek moves to wrap a hand around Stiles’ back but Stiles has other plans and, instead of being back to stomach, Stiles wraps his hands around Derek, pulling him into a hug. He rests his head against Derek’s chest and breathes out.

                “You’re going to be the death of me,” Derek remarks and Stiles just laughs. “It’s probably going to be your dad killing me for finding me wrapped around his underage son.”

                “Nah,” Stiles laughs. “He loves me. He wouldn’t kill you.”

                Stiles can faintly hear Derek’s heartbeat while he has his ear against his chest. It’s consistent and entrancing, beating as an indication of the reality of the situation.        

                “Couples don’t normally sleep together on the first date,” Derek comments and Stiles can hear the sentence reverberate throughout Derek’s chest, can feel the vibrations as he’s talking. It is rather soothing to Stiles. It gives him a break from his mind running wild.

                “Well it’s an awful good thing that we aren’t a normal couple, right?” Stiles asks, looking up at Derek with a cheesy grin.

                “That’s for sure,” Derek admits.

                Stiles nods but begins to feel his eyes closing. His breath starts to even out and become fewer and farther between. Every muscle in his body begins to relax. Even the once rapid thoughts in his brain are calming down as if they were hit with a tranquilizer and Stiles feels the dream-world pulling at the edge of his consciousness. Derek notices the shift in Stiles’ behavior and places a hand on Stiles’ back.

                “Tired now, Stiles?” Derek asks, his voice lighter and with a joking tone to it.

                “No,” Stiles grumbles out, shaking his head slightly.

                “Are you sure?” Derek asks again.

                “No,” Stiles slurs and within a minute or two, the teen is out cold.

                Derek stays still, trying not to rouse the unconscious teen. He stares down to Stiles sleeping against his chest and, damn his emotions, he can’t help but smile. Stiles isn’t in pain. His face isn’t contorted in horror or sadness. He’s not angrily spouting out tirades against Derek or the pack for failing to do this or that. Instead, Stiles has a small smile against his lips and his breath is coming out evenly and in precise intervals. Derek shifts his body over so Stiles’ arm isn’t pinned beneath him. Stiles squirms in his sleep but his eyes remain closed and he doesn’t seem to stir out of the dreamscape. Derek feels the wolf inside of him rising up in delight, tinting his vision with a light red as the wolf awakens to take a survey of the scene. There’s a mirth inside Derek’s chest cavity that he can’t seem to kill off. He can’t seem to suppress his wolf enough to maintain his stoic façade.

                After a difficult inner grapple with his wolf for control, Derek caves into his animalistic tendencies. His vision remains tinted with red and he smiles down at the sleeping Stiles. His wolf is so inexplicably _overjoyed_ that he’s resting beside his mate, that he knows _for sure_ that his mate is safe. Derek knows there is still is a lot to discuss between him and Stiles. There’s still the issue of the Alpha Pack to resolve and Stiles and Derek haven’t been on a technical date since Derek began courting him back on that Nature Preserve.

                Derek’s not going to deny himself momentary pleasures and while he knows he will have to disappear in the early morning to avoid being caught by an enraged and indignant father, Derek allows himself to slip off into unconsciousness, his arm wrapped around Stiles’ back.

                He’s not sure if this _thing_ between them will last forever or if Stiles will even want him around that long. He’s not sure how this will all play out but what he does know right now is that Scott and Isaac are sleeping safely at home, even Peter is snoring soundly and right now, he’s got his arms around his mate and he’s about to enter sleep’s embrace himself. With his pack safe and sound and with no immediate problems weighing on his mind, Derek happily hands himself over to unconsciousness and restorative sleep.

                Before he drifts off, Stiles catches him off guard.

                “You’d be more comfortable to sleep on as a wolf,” Stiles comments happily as he nudges his nose against Derek’s chest.

                “Shut up, Stiles,” Derek snorts. “Go to sleep.”

                For once in a long time, Stiles listens to Derek’s orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed and I'm sorry you had to wait so very long.   
> I'll be updating as soon as I can.   
> School and work are hard to juggle but I'll manage :)   
> Thank you all.   
> Kudos & Comments appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> I try to stay up to date on my profile with the next chapter summary or the possibility of new stories so if you check there, I might do what I did for other stories and leave hints for future chapters.
> 
> Thank you for Reading, I'll work on getting the next chapter up very soon.


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